Patio progress (final)

I figured I would condense all patio posts into one, and keep it updated with progress photos.

Pre ground-breaking. The yard is great, but there's no access from the back door. (notice the deck has no stairs)

Day one, 6/10/08. Bill and crew got a lot of work done this morning, clearing out the vegetation and brick work and building most of the form. The concrete truck is coming tomorrow, when they'll pour, stamp and finish it.

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Day two, 6/11/08. The concrete truck arrived, they mixed in the dye for the concrete, (sort of a reddish-tan, to match the deck) and started wheeling it down the hill to fill the form.

Offloading and filling the form - it required 3 cubic yards of concrete.

After smoothing out the pour, they wait for it to start drying... then apply the stamp, which will make it look like stone work instead of concrete. Hey, why buy stone? This is much less expensive and looks nearly as good.

The surface is stamped, and the "grout dye" powder has been added. (so it will look like the stones are grouted with reddish material) This will settle and dry overnight, and tomorrow the forms will be removed and the surface powerwashed. I'm going to add a sealant to the surface to keep it in good condition.
The finished product! We started building the stairs at 10-ish yesterday, and finished about 10:30 last night. I can't stain the wood for about 60 days - it needs time to dry and season.

Thanks, Gary and Bill, for making this happen.

Newgrill isn't a city in Jamaica

Last weekend my friend Mike Cornett and I picked up my Father's Day present, the first new grill I've had in seven years.


Halogen-lighted fire box, LED lights on the instrument panel, and an oven... roughly 100,000 BTUs. Now that'll cook a steak. Well, er... veggies, I mean. (trying to watch my diet)

I needed Mike's truck, (and his back) since the grill weighs 425 pounds. It takes up a huge section of the deck - good thing we're getting a patio.

Unabashed coverage of the iPhone

For anyone watching for developing iPhone news from the WWDC today, here's the link of a guy, Pete Mortenson, who is blogging live from the event and will have the latest news first.

During the keynote address today by Steve Jobs, the unveiling of the newest version of the iPhone is expected. It's a 3G model (broadband access) and rumor has it, will include lots of new, nifty features.

Click the link above to follow the news via Pete's blog on Popular Mechanics' site. When there, hit 'refresh' for updates. The announcement is expected at Noon, eastern. (30 minutes from now) Update: It's actually noon central time, so it's underway now.

What's next, stroller spinner rimz?

We took Sparky for a walk around the 'hood this afternoon (if you're familiar with my subdivision you know how funny it is to refer to it in "street") and mom thought it was a good day to break out some of his badazz threads. I had to snap a pic to share wit' my homies.

It follows you around... (revised with demo)

Here's a demo of the webcam in action:



I recently upgraded my webcam to the new HP Elite, which includes a stereo microphone and "face tracker," which allows you to move around at your desk and the camera actually follows you around and auto-zooms/auto-focuses so your face (mostly) fills the screen.

It is high resolution (up to 12 megapixel still shot or 3 megapixel video) and looks really neat. Now if I could only find someone who wants to video conference! Wanna?

I've officially "made it"

It's a quaint moment in any blog's history when you reach the top of the Google search list for "whale shaped spanking paddles."

I'm number ONE. Read it and weep, lesser bloggers.

Before

This week our friend Bill will be pouring a concrete patio behind our house. Then Saturday, our friend Gary is building stairs from the deck down to the new patio. With friends like this, who needs contractors?

Currently, we have no outside access through the back door - only access to the deck. This will serve to open up the backyard, which includes a beautiful lake with fountain, ducks and other natural shit.

Here's a "before" shot of the back yard and deck:

GPS (Greatly Profane Slanderer)

Yesterday, as I cursed and honked at dolts who clearly couldn't pass a Missouri driver's test, it occurred to me that I need to develop a data set for GPS systems that provides directions in the same way Ed Debevic's in Chicago serves its patrons - rudely.

"Take a left turn in a quarter of a mile, douche bag." If you pass the turn, the unit gets indignant: "So why don't you just turn me off if you're not going to pay attention, idiot?"

"Only your Mom would be driving this slow - what are you, handicapped?"

"Well, well. You reached your destination. Aren't we both a little surprised? Now turn me off, I'm tired!"

Wiling away the hours

One of the first "skills" my son has learned is to make his stuffed animals shake. The three of them hang above his bouncer - Zippy the zebra, Gary the gator and Edgar the elephant.



Witness the brilliance - and he learned this at about 5-6 weeks.

Don't we all believe our children are advanced?

Somewhere...

Leave it to the Missouri weather to both disappoint and amaze.

Yesterday we attended a 30th birthday party for a friend, and naturally it had to rain. The downpour sent us scurrying into the garage for shelter, and when it stopped we witnessed one of nature's most beautiful events.

In fact, it was a double rainbow for a while.

What a sight...

Shhhhhh, the baby's sleeping

Monumental day. Huge.

We put the baby down for the night at around 9:00 pm. He woke up at 6:30 am.

This would qualify as his first time sleeping through the night. He is only 7 1/2 weeks old, which is pretty phenomenal! We'll see if it continues, but all things considered, it's very, very big.

We started doing something called a "dream feed" this week. We put him down at 8:30 or 9, go in and feed him while he sleeps at about 11, and that usually tides him over for 5 hours or so. Last night it lasted quite a bit longer.

He woke up bright-eyed and bushy tailed this morning - and so did his parents, for a change.

I shit my drawers

But not routinely - usually I have to have an impetus.

Last night it was a strong downpour, which suddenly filled the sump pit in our basement to within 8 or 10 inches of the top. The pump was running, but wasn't actually working. I fooled around with it and finally got it to start working, but stayed up until the rain stopped, to prevent a complete disaster.

Within the past month, four neighbors' basements have flooded because of the recent heavy rains. In all of those events their sump pumps gave out, leaving the water little recourse.

This subdivision is about four years old - so I'm going to assume the average life expectancy of a sump pump is four years. I called our family plumber last night and he is bringing a big, beefy sump pump and installing it today.

Call it a preemptive move.

Best ribs in NE Missouri

As touted by the Rural Electric Coop's quarterly mag (and pointed out by my friend "Bird")... we finally stopped at Piggy's BBQ, a little hole-in-the-wall on Main Street in O'Fallon.

Best ribs I've ever tasted. The secret is in the rub, I think, and the fact that they are smoked out front (literally in their parking lot - see right side of the pic above) daily. At less than 20 bucks a slab, I am tempted to take home 3 or 4 for my next BBQ and save the briquets.*

It comes with three sauce choices, including a regular, a nice spicy jalapeno BBQ, and a sweet, smoky one.

I can hear my arteries slamming shut. Time to pop another Crestor...

*yes, I admit - if you get an invitation to my place for ribs, chances are I will be buying them from Piggy's and claiming them as my own. Shit happens.

"The only human institution which rejects progress is the cemetery." - Harold Wilson

Tonight, as we dined outside under the stars on the deck, we saw a great example of how things change. Within one year, the payoffs for our personal wagers have gone from sexual favors to who'll wash the bottles.

In one year.

So I rustled up a few quotes about change. Don't expect them to change your mind about anything.

If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it. ~Mary Engelbreit

Change is inevitable - except from a vending machine. ~Robert C. Gallagher

If you're in a bad situation, don't worry it'll change. If you're in a good situation, don't worry it'll change. ~John A. Simone, Sr.

There is a certain relief in change, even though it be from bad to worse! As I have often found in travelling in a stagecoach, that it is often a comfort to shift one's position, and be bruised in a new place. ~Washington Irving

Faced with the choice between changing one's mind and proving that there is no need to do so, almost everyone gets busy on the proof. ~John Kenneth Galbraith

Change always comes bearing gifts. ~Price Pritchett

The only difference between a rut and a grave is their dimensions. ~Ellen Glasgow

You can avoid having ulcers by adapting to the situation: If you fall in the mud puddle, check your pockets for fish. ~Author Unknown

I put a dollar in one of those change machines. Nothing changed. ~George Carlin

All change is not growth, as all movement is not forward. ~Ellen Glasgow

There is no reason why the same man should like the same books at eighteen and forty-eight. ~Ezra Pound

God grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the courage to change the one I can, and the wisdom to know it's me. ~Author Unknown

And my favorite:

We would rather be ruined than changed; We would rather die in our dread then climb the cross of the moment and let our illusions die. ~W.H. Auden

Rachel "Yasser" Ray

Filed under the GMAB (give me a break) header:

Rachel Ray's web ad touting Dunkin' Donuts' new iced coffee product has been yanked because in the ad, she's wearing a scarf that supposedly promotes terrorism. It only vaguely resembles the pattern worn by Yasser Arafat:








The right-wing neocons are freaking the hell out about it. Give it a rest, you act like a bunch of shivering idiots. How did the US become the world's most powerful country when people such as these are so fearful?

Grow a damned spine... and stop making up things to fear.

Wedding candy

One evening recently, Em and I were planning our wedding, and trying to find a reading that is not religious, but meaningful and applicable.

My favorite short story by Robert Fulghum, from his book Everything I Need To Know I Learned in Kindergarten, would be perfect in my opinion. Em thinks it's a little dark, referring to death, war and such. It's pretty short, so read it and give me your opinion:

THE RUSSIANS ARE A ROTTEN LOT, immoral, aggressive, ruthless, coarse, and generally evil. They are responsible for most of the troubles in this world. They're not like us.

That's pretty much the summary of the daily news about the Russians. But sometimes something slips through the net of prejudice, some small bit of a sign that is so clean and true and real that it wedges open the rusting Iron Curtain long enough for us to see not an enemy but fellow travelers, joined to us by membership in the Fellowship of Joy-and-Pain.

See Nicolai Pestretsov. I don't know much about him, I don't know where he is now, but I'll tell you what I know.

He was a sergeant major in the Russian army, thirty-six years old. He was stationed in Angola, a long way from home. His wife had come out to visit him.

On August 24, South African military units entered Angola in an offensive against the black nationalist guerrillas taking sanctuary there. At the village of N-Giva, they encountered a group of Russian soldiers. Four were killed and the rest of the Russians fled, except for Sergeant Major Pestretsov. He was captured, as we know because the South African military communique said:

"Sgt. Major Nicolai Pestretsov refused to leave the body of his slain wife, who was killed in the assault on the village."

It was as if the South Africans could not believe it, for the communique repeated the information. "He went to the body of his wife and would not leave it, although she was dead."

How strange. Why didn't he run and save his own hide? What made him go back? Is it possible that he loved her? Is it possible that he wanted to hold her in his arms one last time? Is it possible that he needed to cry and grieve? Is it possible that he felt the stupidity of war? Is it possible that he felt the injustice of fate? Is it possible that he thought of children, born or unborn? Is it possible that he didn't care what became of him now?

It's possible. We don't know. Or at least we don't know for certain. But we can guess. His actions answer.

And so he sits alone in a South African prison. Not a "Russian" or "Communist" or "soldier" or "enemy" or any of those categories. Just-a-man, who cared for just-a-woman, for just-a-time, more than anything else.

Here's to you, Nicolai Pestretsov, wherever you may go and be, for giving powerful meaning to the promises that are the same everywhere; for dignifying that covenant that is the same in any language - "for better or for worse, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love and honor and cherish unto death, so help me God. "

You kept the faith; kept it bright, kept it shining. Bless you!

(Oh, the Russians are a rotten lot, immoral, aggressive, ruthless, coarse, and general evil. They are responsible for most of the troubles of this world. They are not like us. Yeah, right.)

I hate to admit it, but I can't read it without crying. That doesn't mean it's perfect to be read aloud in a wedding. Thoughts?

Ancient relic unearthed!

How long since you've seen one of these?


I spied one this morning on the way for coffee and to take Regis to the groomer. I hadn't seen one in quite a while.

I remember the first "cellular" phone I had. I lived at the Lake of the Ozarks and the station paid to have one installed in my car. When the phone rang, the horn would honk. It was also push to talk, like a walkie talkie.

This may, or may not, be an actual picture.

Happiness is not a destination, it's a journey

For years I've heard that phrase and for years I thought it made perfect sense. But lately I've been thinking maybe it's a matter of perspective.

How can you tell someone who has been divorced many times, fought cancer, lost a child or lost their home and recovered from those things to land on their feet, that happiness is found in the journey? THAT journey doesn't sound happy at all.

It's really an individual thing, isn't it? Maybe for some, happiness is where they are now.

Our neighbor's son recently suffered a house fire and had to come live with his parents. At about the time the rebuild was complete, the pipes burst and flooded the home, which delayed their return. A couple of months later, while his son awaited repairs from the pipe burst, the neighbor's wife died. Then, last night, the basement of his house (where the son and his family were still staying) flooded from the rain.

Not a happy journey.

Of course today isn't really your ultimate destination - it's just one stopping point along the journey. But I'd say for some, happiness is still somewhere down the line...

iPhone 2.0

The rumors are true - sometime around June 18 the newer, slicker Apple iPhone will arrive.

The announcement will be made on June 9 at the opening ceremony of the Worldwide Developers Conference. iPhone 2.0 will operate on the faster 3G HSDPA network, which means broadband speeds finally available on the ground-breaking, technically advanced cell phone.

Em poo-poos my iPhone, but requests to use it almost constantly for the Maps feature and internet. I told her she's welcome to keep it in about 3 weeks... or I'll be happy to buy her one of the saucy, blazing fast new ones. She hasn't officially given her reply.

Wish list for the new phone: GPS (which I understand WILL be a feature), Flash integration for Safari, more convenient features for email, such as multiple delete and landscape view, and video record capabilities. Please, Uncle Steve?

Again, I refuse to stand in line for the new iPhone.*








*for more than 3 or 4 hours.

Our subdivision: a river runs through it

After several inches of rain overnight, the tributary behind our subdivision, normally a trickle, became a full-blown raging river and threatens several homes nearby.

Without a sump pump, my own basement might be flooded, since the water table is incredibly high right now. There is a Servicemaster truck across the street - apparently their pump failed.

Pics from the 'hood:

This shows just how close the water is to some of our neighbors.

The park shelters across the street at Dames Park. The entire park is submerged.

Water polo field? Not hardly. These fields won't see football for a while.

Be quiet I'll get you something nice...

The words to the nursery rhyme "Hush Little Baby" slay me:

Hush, little baby, don't say a word.

Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird
And if that mockingbird won't sing,

Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.

If you'll just be quiet, I'll spend a lot of money on you. Diamond rings aside, have you priced mockingbirds these days? A high price to pay for a little silence.

I say let the little tyke cry a bit. It's cheaper and helps develop their lungs.

Thinking food

No time like the present for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

We went for sushi earlier tonight and although one of my favorite meals, it always leaves me wanting something else. Generally cereal or a PBJ in the middle of the night hits the spot.

There's something about sitting in the kitchen at 3 am, the ticking of the clock the only sound in the house... with a tall glass of milk, jars of Skippy and strawberry preserves, and a fresh loaf of bread.

You can do a lot of thinking over a meal like that. I wonder if someone, somewhere else in the world, is doing the same thing. And if you're out there, do you ever eat yours toasted?

I can see your house from here

Ever wonder if you've reached your pinnacle? If today is the best you'll ever be?

I do. If I had to pick a time in my life that represented my happiest, most secure and content time, I'd have to say now. Today.

So what does that say of tomorrow? I wonder. I guess I'll know when it gets here.

But for now, I can't help but feel that if my life were a play, act two has already begun. Time is ticking by, and I've yet to find a way to make the audience cry.

Talk about losing the thread...

For the past three weeks, I have completely and utterly ignored my blog. I have no excuses.

Well, I have one. He's almost 13 pounds now and we're down to one feeding per night. Talk about life changing! I have an 18 year old too, but it's amazing what you forget over the years. Things like how utterly dependent they are on you. How innocent and beautiful babies are. How fascinating it is that they are made of the same genetic code as you.

So it's 2:00 am on a Sunday morning and here I sit. Up for Grayson's midnight snack and (incorrectly) thinking it's a good time to blog.

Some aging white guy in some office somewhere

It's posts like this from Steve Mays that got me interested in blogging:

"I have this fantasy of some guy serving a life sentence. In his cell 23 hours a day. No TV, no radio, no books or magazines... just a computer that can only do one thing. Show the images from my webcam.

What sort of story would he construct from these images. Year after year, some aging white guy in some office somewhere. People walking past the open doorway, sometimes coming in to talk. About something he'll never know. Would he wonder about my moods from my facial expressions? Would he feel as though he knows me after years of watching me, hour after hour?"

Many of us, the brotherhood of the blog, choose to leave the curtain of our window pulled aside a little in the event someone wants a peek. There is worth and interest in all of our lives, whether your view is from the top of the Sears Tower or a basement window overlooking a pond.

Necesito unas vacaciones

I'm working the night shift (which of course means the baby is between night feedings) and thinking of a trip to Mexico... to the point where I'm about to blend a midnight margarita.

Seems like forever ago, but we were there just last year. I suppose our next opportunity will be our honeymoon in early June 2009.

2007 in Playa del Carmen.

Right now it's hard to fathom just how much our lives have changed.

"It takes a long time to grow young" - Pablo Picasso

It was a great day to turn 44!

Last night, Em's mom and grandmother came and brought dinner, along with a nice strawberry shortcake. Is there anything like fresh strawberries on angel food cake?

Neither Pauline nor Wilma (isn't that the greatest gramma name ever?) could decide on a card, so they both got me two, and between them they contained $150. Um... thanks for the cash, but did I really need FOUR paper reminders I'm 44?

No seriously, thanks for the cash, I'm going to use it toward a brush guard for my Hummer. I must find a way to keep all that brush off my grill. When Emily tells me I don't need a guard because I never take it off-road, I tell her I never take it off-road because I don't have a guard.

She accuses me of being a "West County" Hummer driver. That's not very nice.

Anyway, today I spent the day with my son, then the lovely Em and I snuck out to dinner while her mother watched Grayson. We went to Bristol's for seafood.

All in all, it was a nice birthday. I'm wrapping it up by catching up on Tivo'd shows while watching my son snooze in his bouncer. A great way to end the day...

A couple of shots of Mini-Me.

Sparky chillin' out on the dog Uncle Gary got him.
Snuggling with daddy in my office one day after work.

A pirate looks at forty

Ron, Gary and I went to see Jimmy Buffett at Verizon Wireless Amphitheater Thursday night, a celebration of my birthday and my first experience with 18-thousand parrotheads.

It was a good time, although as usual, the Riverport sound sucked. Buffett talks frequently between songs and it was almost impossible to understand him.

A Buffett show is sort of like the Grateful Dead, minus halucinogens and micro-buses, plus mini vans and margaritas. The tailgating was absolutely incredible... every vehicle in the parking lot had its own party, with Buffett music drifting above it all like a steel drum fog.

Buffett is an interesting dichotomy. As Ron said, for him it's party music. In my estimation, it's quite the contrary - I listen to Buffett when I'm feeling mellow. If you strip away the veneer his lyrics are quite provocative.

The struggle to find happiness:

There's an island in the ocean
Where the people stay in motion.
Somewhere on the old gulf stream
Do they live or did I dream?
They are changing channels
Waitin' for their sails to fill.
They'll be changing channels
Always will.

Regret of time and money wasted:

Yes I am a pirate
Two hundred years too late.
The cannons don't thunder, there's nothin' to plunder
I'm an over-forty victim of fate
Arriving too late...
I've done a bit of smugglin'
And I've run my share of grass
I made enough money to buy Miami
But I pissed it away so fast.
Never meant to last...

And the song that describes my feelings about another birthday:

No, you never see it coming
Always wind up wondering where it went.
Only time will tell if it was time well spent.
It's another revelation
Celebrating what I should have done
With these souvenirs of my trip around the sun.
Yes, I'll make a resolution
That I'll never make another one...
Just enjoy this ride on my trip around the sun.
Just enjoy this ride
...Until it's done.

Al Wilson, Paul Davis

Two artists who were influential for me died this week.

Rhythm & Blues artist Al Wilson, with great songs like Show and Tell (1973), Poor Side of Town (1969) and Touch and Go (1974), died of kidney failure at age 68. Show and Tell is as popular today as it was in '73, you hear it on just about every Adult Contemporary station in the world. Soulful guy.

Paul Davis, who sang songs like I Go Crazy (1978), Sweet Life (1978) and '65 Love Affair (1981), died of a heart attack at age 60. He did a song that was a flip side (the throw away side of a single) that I loved, called He Sang Our Love Songs. Masterful writer.

Two more pages closed in the American songbook.

Zzzzzzzzz

Takin' a nap on the floor in the nursery. I actually never fully dozed off, I was enjoying the moment too much.


Mom doing the same thing.

Mousetrap

Putting a baby down to sleep is a little like setting a mousetrap.

You must gingerly "set" both... for the baby, it's a fresh diaper, swaddle, a little soothing and a pacifier. It's analogous to putting the crossbar of the trap into the little slot, releasing the tension and hoping it holds.

Then, you have to quietly, easily, set the baby down. Much like a moustrap, if you make the wrong move...

SNAP!!!!!!!!!

If you're a parent and have ever set a mousetrap, you will get this analogy. Sometimes, in either case, it's best for the faint of heart to leave the room and allow someone more brave to handle things. Which is why, at 4:45 am, I'm in the kitchen writing this.

I feel the earth move under my feet

This morning at 4:37 central, St. Louis shook.

An exerpt from the Post-Dispatch message board:

"My bird started flipping out a few minutes before it happened and woke me up. I walked out into the living room and heard all the birds in the neighborhood all going nuts, I knew something was gonna happen. Then stuff started shaking."

Strange how animals know it's coming before it arrives. 5.2 on the scale. Nothing near what we experienced in 1971 in Los Angeles, (which is the only quake I can remember) but it's a little scary for the "inlanders" around here.

We've been up every two or three hours all night, and wouldn't you know it... the quake happened between feedings, when we were asleep. We've been so sleep deprived lately, when we're out, we're OUT. We never felt a thing.

I said this wouldn't turn into a baby blog, and I meant it

But today's events deserve coverage.

We took our first trip outside the house today, to an appointment with the pediatrician.*

I figured most parents are late to their pediatrician first-appointments, since I can't imagine them having their act together three days after the baby is born.

We were late. Upon entering the exam room, the nurse asked us to remove all of his clothes except diaper. As I followed her instructions, I noticed his diaper was full of poop. (proud moment for any parent) I also realized, at almost the same second, that we forgot to bring anything resembling a diaper bag. In fact, we had nothing. No fresh diaper, no wet wipes... just Grayson and ourselves.

Oh sure, any normal person would have felt like a bad parent, but we knew better. We're not bad parents, we're new parents. (since Courtney was born almost 19 years ago, I consider myself a rookie again) The nurse sympathized and immediately left the room to retrieve fresh diapers and wet wipes.

As I applied the fresh diaper and prepared to remove his onesy, he peed. All over the new diaper, out the top of the new diaper, onto me, the exam table and his only onesy.

Yeah, so... we had to take the baby home without a shirt. Only his pants, socks and a couple of receiving blankets wrapped around him. It worked out well, he slept all the way... even long enough for me to stop for a badly needed dose of caffeine.

We're still shaking our heads. How could we leave the house without a diaper bag? It's humbling, because in every other way, we were totally prepared. We just never anticipated our own parental inexperience.

*Grayson is in perfect health. In fact, he has gained ten ounces since we left the hospital. He is now back to within three ounces of his birth weight, which made the doctor very happy. So far, we're very lucky. He's a textbook baby, even a little skewed toward the "angel" side.

One more picture (yeah, as if)

We are out of the hospital and back home. Good thing too, because that stupid fold-out ridiculous-excuse-for-a-bed chair was killing my back!


Yawning.

Fatherhood, as I see it

Again from our private "Sparky" blog, I wrote a letter to Sparky I wanted to share. It sort of summarizes how I feel about having a son, how I hope he approaches the world, and what kind of world it is.

-----

Sparky:

The ultrasound has left little doubt that you are indeed a boy. When Mom and I found out last week, we were elated! We really wanted a boy.

As your Dad, I need to tell you a few things I think will help you. Most of it is in the form of advice, but there will also be a couple of warnings, and a few rules to live by.

First, I am already so very proud of you. Mom and I are lucky to have the privilege of raising you! I can't put into words how much we love you, even now, 4 1/2 months before you are scheduled to arrive. I have waited 43 years to meet you, son. That's a long time... you'll learn just how long, soon enough.

You are about to embark on a major journey. I won't promise you it will be magical, amazing or fun, because honestly, it will be what you make it. That's how life is. It won't always be exciting, you won't always be able to do what you want, and there won't be dessert at the end of every meal.

You will get bruises, cuts and scrapes. You'll poop your pants. You'll bump your head. That's the way it goes. Be ready and be brave.

You will go to school. You will have to work hard. There will be victories and disappointments. That's also how life is. One thing is certain, you will learn more from your failures than your successes. Be open minded to any opportunity for learning.

You will probably go through a phase when your parents seem stupid to you. Most assuredly, we are not. You will ask questions like "what have you done for me?" The quick answer is, we made it possible for you to be. Never forget that. Be respectful, even when you don't feel like it.

You will eventually have to pay bills. You will have to obey laws. You will wash your own clothes and cook your own food. That's the way it goes.

Son, you will come to love many people during your life. Without exception, love is the most important thing you'll ever experience. Love usually comes when you least expect it. It heals, sometimes hurts, and it endures. A Mother's love is the most pure thing you will ever experience. Savor it and always keep her close.

Be open with your emotions. Sad things happen and it's okay to cry - the greatest men in the world do it. Happy things will make you cry, too.

Don't waste a single opportunity to tell someone how you feel about them. Tomorrow is never a sure thing. I can't tell you how many times I've wished I could turn back time and tell someone I loved them one more time. There is no time machine, so make the most of every opportunity.

Money matters, but it isn't everything. You'll need it to make your way, but it won't make you happy. Again, that's up to you. No material possession can dry your eye, hug your neck or kick your butt when you need it.

Be proud of yourself, son. Be your own biggest fan (you may have to nudge your Mother and me aside). You're a good and smart person. It's okay to think so!

Open the door for women. Wave at neighbors. Smile a lot. Respect your elders. Keep an open mind. Accept people for who they are, and place value in what they offer. Be kind to animals. Be kind to the Earth.

Listen.

And finally, there is something called the Golden Rule, and if you remember nothing else I teach you, remember this: treat people the way you want them to treat you. In life, you get what you give.

At first blush, this may not sound like much fun. Again, it is what you make it. When you do the right things, you will be rewarded. Life's pretty fair, all things considered.

Your Mom and I, your teachers, your friends and family... can only do so much. Most of it is up to you. And honestly, it's far more fun and satisfying that way.

Thank you for being my son. I love you.

-Dad

Background on Grayson

On a separate, private blog, (called Letters To Sparky) I posted an explanation to him about why we named him Grayson. Here's a copy of that letter:

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Sparky:

Mom and I have decided what your name will be!

Maybe I should say Mom gave in. Look, if you eventually end up hating your name it is my fault, okay. Mom is not responsible... I pushed really hard for it.* But I think you'll love it as much as I do.

The guy who first told me I could make a living in the voice over business was Bob Grayson. He hired me at his radio station and became my first client. Over the years we became dear friends. He also helped get my career off the ground.

A little more than a year ago, Bob died of cancer. He died while I was out of town and couldn't attend his funeral. I had no opportunity to say goodbye to him or honor him in any way, and have carried that burden since. Then one day while talking to a friend, the name came up and it occurred to me that naming you after my old friend would be a very special tribute to him.

Thus, your first name. That's right son - you're Bob!

Just kidding, we would never do that to you.Your first name is Grayson. It's a powerful name... handsome and mysterious. Mom thinks it sounds a little serious, but I really believe it will help you find happiness and good fortune.

Of course we decided a long time ago that your middle name is Thomas, after your Uncle Tommy. Your Mom and I both feel that if you turn out anything like him, it's all either of us could ask.

Finally, you are the last male in a long lineage of Morrises. After me, the name would have died. Now you will carry it proudly forward and be the family's prodigy. It's up to you to pass it on if you choose.

Grayson Thomas Morris. It's a really great name. Respect it. There may be times in life when it's all you have, so do your best to keep it clean, honest and unscathed.

Although Mom and I both love the nickname Sparky, I'm happy we can finally call you something else!

Love,

-Dad

Announcing...

Grayson Thomas Morris. Ready for this? 23 inches long. 9 pounds, 14 ounces!

I can't imagine a better day. Thanks everbody for checking in.

The Big Day - an hour by hour update (or however often I can)

The following is for family and friends to follow the progress of our baby's birth. I will try to post regularly. Neither of us got much sleep last night - I worked in my studio until about 1:30 am, getting all the last-minute projects out so I could take a week off. On to today:

5:50 am - We arrived at the hospital and Em was in pretty vigorous labor - it appears the inducing won't be necessary.

7:30 am - I am bedside with the laptop and Em is comfortable now, with the pain medication they put in her IV. "Hee heee heeeee whoooooo." Ah, the breathing exercises. She's doing great and it won't be long until Sparky is here. She is in and out of a nap. She is positive she wants the epidural - and I can't blame her a bit. I am the back rubber and hand holder. She is my hero.

8:15 am - They will use a little of the drug used for induction, to see if we can pick up the pace a little.

9:30 am - Em's pain level is pretty high, so they started her epidural. They are going to break her water in just a few minutes. I was given my free meal tickets. (Haha! "Free!" Not hardly) Slowly, her pain is subsiding. Sparky can only be a few more hours away at this point! (he said, fool heartedly) Also they are putting in a catheter - I am pretty jealous. I wish I could pee at will. (I mean voluntarily) More later.

10:30 am - Whoa! Dilated to five, water broke on its own, Em is very comfortable. The nurse estimated early afternoon for arrival, and just made a guess of 7.12 to 8.0 lbs. They're pretty good at this stuff. We'll see. I'm really hungry but lunch isn't for another hour. Maybe I'll get a candy bar or something. See how I'm worried about me? I'm a selfish bastard...

11:45 am - Yes, I know you're wondering - I ate. Had a pizza and some oreos. So anyway, to the point... Emily is now dilated to 9. This is going really, really smoothly. Within the hour we will be pushing. I have the video camera set up to record the whole thing (from behind Em) and am all ready to play coach. I might not get a chance to check in again pre-Sparky, but if not I'll post a picture or two afterward.

Emily and Sparky's birthday

Em was born on April 10. So will Sparky be.

We received word this afternoon that we will be induced tomorrow morning at 6 am. Sparky and Em will have the same birthday, which really makes it easy on me. There will be only two major shopping days every year, December 24 and April 9.

I will have the laptop and our camera at the hospital, so don't think I won't be posting pictures of the handsome little guy.

Stop in tomorrow for an update. Wish us luck!

God's calendar is waaay off...

I thought I'd post a quick update to tell you the baby is overdue.

We were supposed to deliver last Sunday, but I guess he's too comfortable and warm to come out yet. Maybe he's waiting for the warmer weather of Spring - so far it's been colder than normal here.

So we wait. Saturday we went to the grocery store and the cashier asked when we were due. "Yesterday," we said. "Well what are you doing HERE? None of us knows how to deliver a baby!"

As if she believed the baby just falls out unexpectedly. We got a good laugh. It also allowed us to slip through the "20 items of less" lane with 21 items.

I admit, I will miss being able to park in the "expectant mothers" space.

Baby Grand

After clearing out our dining room, we now have space for something I've wanted all my life, a baby grand piano.

Not that we'll be getting one right away, but in my past three houses I've had space for one and decided not to make the leap. I'm starting to feel more leapish lately.

Granted it's a huge piece of furniture but I have no hobbies to speak of, and playing the piano has always been important to me. One of my favorite movies, "10" (with Dudley Moore), scores high on my list partly because of one scene - where he plays the piano.* Check it out:



Moore got that scene in one take. He was just a great pianist.

I've always had a love for music, and I have very few passions in my life these days with exceptions for Em and Sparky. I feel like I need to find that one thing I enjoy and will be remembered for. For whatever reason, I feel like the piano could be it.



*The movie is also important to me because it came out when I was a kid. I remember talking about it with friends, eager for it to come to the theater. We all had our crushes on Bo Derek. It's strange - I never thought I would be able to relate to Moore's character. Having watched it again recently, I realize that has changed... I know exactly where he's coming from.

Freaky messages from a magic cookie

I am beside myself to explain some of the world's mysteries. How does Old Faithful know when to erupt? How do birds know which way is north? Who put the bomp in the bomp, bomp, bomp?

Add to that another evasive mystery: how does Confucius get those little strips of paper to go into his typewriter? And, how does he always seem to get it right? Here's a fortune I received in a cookie the same day we found out we were pregnant:


I have a daughter already, and the timing of this message - the day we took the pregnancy test - is pretty "twilight zone." Still, the skeptic in me prevented me from making much of it.

Fast forward to a few days ago. Next fortune:


THAT'S freaky. If I didn't know better, I would think someone was trying to pull a fast one.

April Tool

That's me. This morning I texted several friends and told them we were at the hospital having the baby. So far it's been my most successful April fool joke ever...

I'm such a bastard. I know paybacks will be severe and swift. It's up to me to be hyper-vigilant.

Breakfast strands

Em and I went to breakfast at Mimi's this morning so I could nurture my brain back to life after a night of scotch and cigars with the boys. (possibly the last opportunity of its kind for a few months) As the spicy Bloody Mary went about its assignment, I was considering DNA.

Our son will be thrust into the human race at any moment, and his genetic make-up was on my mind. An odd possibility occurred to me - what if the trillions of strands of DNA each of our cells contains were more than just a genetic roadmap for our bodies, but also an encoded "plan?" It's a compelling concept, the thought that DNA isn't just who we are, but what we'll do. More than just our predispositions, but also our accomplishments.

I'll bet someday we will discover that DNA is even more important than we know, and that a lot of the "junk" information in the strands actually means something. Perhaps it's a map to the location of our alien makers, or a good recipe for Ratatouille.

There is a movie plot there, somewhere. Now all that is left is to flesh it out, write a screenplay, do a storyboard, pitch it to a studio, hire actors, film it, produce it, market the film and get it into the theaters.

Or... just let it die here in my lonely little corner of the worldwide web.

I need to lay off the scotch.

4,000

Another milestone reached this week, as we lost our 4,000th soldier in Iraq.


Time for a plan to get our men and women home.

BOOM!

In a far flung area of the universe, a star exploded with such force, you could see it with the naked eye. We witnessed the explosion last Friday (3.21.08) but it actually happened 7.5 billion years ago... when the Earth didn't even exist.

Under normal circumstances, the most distant object (a spiral galaxy called M33) that can be seen with the naked eye is about a thousand times closer - 2.9 million light years away. To be able to see such an event without a telescope is just amazing.

Oddly enough, it occurred at close to the same moment (at least in celestial terms) science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke (2001: A Space Odyssey) died.

Clarke was a colorful guy - my favorite quote of his was about extraterrestrial life: “Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.”

I only hope that, as his gamma ray burst occurred and he passed into the great unknown, Hal remembered to open the pod bay door...

Back in the day

"Woem 2 you old friend... Greetings from Kermit."

The subject line of the email left no doubt in my mind who was writing. An old buddy from high school was Googling his own name (haven't we all) and it pulled up a blog entry I wrote a few years ago, so he emailed to catch up a little. We haven't talked in twenty years. The internet (and specifically the free access that blogging provides) is so freaking cool!

Ironically, I had Googled this buddy a few times through the years and came up with nothing. That he found me in reverse fashion is nothing short of miraculous, I'd say.

A nickname I developed in high school was Woem. It's meow backwards, a reference to my last name, Morris - which was the famous Nine Lives cat. We must have done a million 'ludes to get to Woem.

Quick "Kermit" story. Clintoris, Kermit and I went camping one weekend at somebody's cabin out in the woods. Most of the night and morning were spent imbibing various illicit substances and by the time we had packed up to go home, we had developed a fairly profound case of insobriety.

At the time, I was driving a pretty sweet 1965 Dodge Coronet with a .318 8-cyclinder. On the twenty mile trip back, buzzing like a saw from the Coors, Kermit decided to reach over and shove the shifter into park. Trouble was, I was driving 40 at the time.

Meanwhile, we had gotten the engine really wet and one of the cylinders had stopped firing... so by the time I dropped the guys off, I had only 2 forward gears and 7 cyclinders to get me home.

The next Monday I bought my '73 Gran Torino. That helped me get over being pissed at Kermit.

He and I also used to share a flask of Southern Comfort during band class occasionally. We never got caught, and I have no idea how.

Sometimes I miss being a kid and living in the country. Things were simple - no worries at all. That's only an illusion, of course... but still.

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We've settled on a name for our son. I'll let you know what it is as soon as he's born. We're only a few days away...

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I had to replace my good camera (it died for some reason) this week, and ended up with a really sweet Canon SLR. It's the EOS 40D, and I'm loving it.

We'll save a fortune on photographers for Sparky alone. All I need is a backdrop, some lights and ... um, what else was it again? Oh yeah, photography skills.

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We're getting ready to pour a patio behind the villa and build some stairs down to it from the deck. We want to open up the backyard for Sparky to play in and for entertaining. I have my eye on the sweetest freaking grill you've ever seen. If you're a guy, get a drool rag because I'm posting a picture. They've run me out of Home Depot three times for loitering nearby:


There are freaking spotlights on that hood that shine down on your sizzling steaks. Sweet-ass sweet!

So my point to Em is, Father's Day is coming up, right? My birthday too. You can combine the two and I won't even be pissed.

Here's to... (a toast of a post)

Here's to guilt. I haven't had time to post like I used to - or maybe I just haven't had much to say for the past couple of months.

Eh, who am I kidding. I've had plenty to say, it's just that most of it pertains to a new baby, and GOD knows you don't want to read a constant stream of infant-oriented blather.

Sometimes, though, I DO have an occasional thought that doesn't deal directly with a baby - or the fact that I'm 43 and will be 60 when he graduates - or that barring medical miracles, I will spend my retirement money on tuition and die at my desk.

A few of those thoughts are listed here, now.

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Here's to birthdays. My good friend, and "guy-who-turned-me-on-to-blogging-even-though-he-didn't-know-it-at-the-time," Steve Mays' odometer rolled over this weekend. He turned 60 and doesn't have a child graduating this year.

By the way, bookmark Steve's blog. I've never gone there and been disappointed... unless he skipped writing something for a day or two.

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Here's to you. My blog's odometer rolled over too - registering its 200,000th hit this week. Thanks for continuing to visit, despite the irregular posting. I am about to address that issue with a series of travel stories from my frequent-flyer period of the 90's.

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Here's to crazy midnight alcohol-induced ideas. My friend Mike and I are developing a podcast concept. I'll keep you informed about its progress. Oddly, we only discuss it when we're six or seven beers into a twelve-pack, and it always seems like a great idea at the time. Thinking about it now, with only coffee to drink - eh, not so much.

The concept is basically to record some of the conversations and stories Mike and I tell when we're sitting around the kitchen table. It would be easy to pull off, since that's what we do best. The only drawback that I can think of is that nobody would want to listen. Minor detail...

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Here's to being alike. Last night Em and I stayed home, ate leftovers and watched television. As I was walking down the stairs with a bowl of the best damned chili I've ever made, I told her that the greatest part of our relationship is... if we'd never met, I'd be doing the exact same thing as I'm doing now. We're pretty perfect for each other.

Then we turned on the History Channel and watched a documentary, pausing it every 30 seconds to critique or dispute the tiniest detail. Yep, that's how we roll.

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PS - So um, there are new maternity photos of Em on the baby's site, if anyone is interested. (click the photo link at the top) They are really great. Less than 4 weeks until Sparky...

OK, enough of the baby blather.

The Baby!

He's only about five weeks away, and we're down to the "brass tacks" of preparation.

Em's friends Paula and Carrie, her mother and sister threw a supremely awesome baby shower last weekend, during which my water broke.

I guess I should explain. (not the part about me being at the baby shower in the first place, but about my water breaking) Each person was given a drink with an ice cube that contained a small plastic baby. Whoever's baby thawed out of its cube first had to shout "my water broke!" I won some moisturizer and lip balm. I promptly donated it back to the cause... which was really stupid because my lips are chapped like a beyotch.

We have the world's greatest family and friends, who gave us almost everything we had registered for at Babys'R'Us. (I told Em we should have registered in the Best Buy plasma HD flat-screen department) We are now busy trying to find a place to store it all.

So, at this point the nursery is pretty much finished and ready for Sparky's arrival:


We had our friend's mother paint some pictures on his walls of the animals in his wallpaper. The monkey and tree were done mostly freehand, and came out really well.


She also did some giraffes, which overlook the crib and will probably creep the little fella out.


Some stencil work around the windows and closet doors. If you want the artist's name and contact info, email me. She's really, really good.

The room looks great! The furniture came in cardboard crates that now need disposal. A few years ago, I would have taken them to my former apartment complex dumpster and drop them in at about 2 am. Too bad that's like 20 miles from here now. I thought about burning them in my driveway, but neighbors hate that kind of subdivision misconduct.