The State of the Viv

Well. I can't believe I haven't written anything for nearly a month. Sorry about that. I have no excuses except that there's been other trifles in my life. And now, today is my birthday. I am the oldest I've ever been.

I'll confess that the past month has been a little rough on our house. Jeff's going through a job crisis and I've been presented with a lot of interesting opportunities for the future. One of them is freelancing for my old workplace, covering some of my old beat (but thankfully not everything. I don't I miss the insane hours) and another one I'll feel more comfortable discussing in the future.

When I look at the past year, I see that I've been busy doing one thing -- keeping the kid alive. The house hasn't burned down and I've been able to wrangle taking care of a child. I've been cooking more, which is great fun, writing more, which is FUCKING FABULOUS and enjoying life.

Then this past month happened and a lot of things I once knew are being shaken to the foundations. I don't feel comfortable going into all the detail. All I know is that I'll weather the storm and what happens, happens. We will survive and endure.

If anything, right now I'm thinking about the Tower Card from the Tarot deck:

No card scares a Tarot reader like the Tower - or the person they're reading for if that person knows anything about Tarot cards. It is however one of the clearest cards when it comes to meaning. False structures, false institutions, false beliefs are going to come tumbling down, suddenly, violently and all at once. What's important to remember as a tarot reader is that the one you're reading for likely does not know that something is false. Not yet. To the contrary, they probably believe that their lover is being faithful, that their religious beliefs are true and right, that there are no problems in their family structure, that everything is fine at work...oh, and that they're fine. Just fine, really.

Alas, they're about to get a very rude awakening. Shaken up, torn down, blown asunder. And all a reader can really do to soften the blow is assure the Querent that it is for the best. Nothing built on a lie, on falsehoods, can remain standing for long. Better to tear it all down and rebuild on the truth. It is not going to be pleasant or painless or easy, but it will be for the best.

Admittedly, in moments like this, I'm going back to thinking about Tyler Durden and Fight Club. Even though he wasn't completely correct about everything, I know I'm going through a chaotic period when I'm thinking, "What would Tyler Durden do?"

Fall back. Let go. Flow. Rise. Destroy. Recreate. That's what he'd do.

And right now with what is going on, that's what I'm feeling right now. I know it's the right thing to do, but it's also kind of scary.

But, as my kid says, "It's kind of scary, but also fun." Truer words never spoken kiddo.

And a fun time was had by all....

Last week, I attempted something for the first time: I, along with my mother, grandmother and Benevolent Dictator, drove to see my sister in upstate New York. I was admittedly nervous since the trip would be about 14-hours in the car. I'll also be honest too in that my relationship with my mom can be volatile and the thought of being enclosed in a car with her for the majority of a day raised fantasies of me throwing myself out of the car and onto the freeway.

But the trip was great overall. The only rough portion was the drive home, and if that's the only thing that was a bummer, I'd call the trip an overall success.

It was great bonding time with my sister, which I think we both needed. Also, I spent most of my time whinging rocks at Canadian geese threatening to overtake her backyard pond. For animal lovers -- I was not aiming to hit them or hurt them (despite threats of turning them into foie gras) -- but to scare them off. Because if you don't know already, Canadian geese are assholes.

It was like I turned into a border collie -- every morning and afternoon I'd look out the window, searching for those damn hissing bastards. When I saw them, BAM! out the door, like a shot stalking over to the pond with a handful of rocks to hurl at them. Sadly, by the third day, the geese were onto us and refused to leave.

I personally like the idea of a scarecrow in the middle of the pond that would pop up via remote control to scare them. And we'd dress the scarecrow up like Lady Gaga in the Telephone video. I need to make that work somehow.

As for the kids, they had a great time together. BD had way too much fun wandering around the house playing with toys and Maddie and Elliott enjoyed all the attention lavished on them. Mali -- the youngest of the clan -- has a nasty reach, which is great for pulling your hair out by the roots and ripping glasses off your face.

I also got to enjoy the joys of pho for the first time. Asian noodle soups are the best, in my opinion. I'm also pleased that my knowledge of Sondheim got one bar trivia question correct. Also, at said bar trivia event, I met one of my sister's friends, who is a lovely woman.

All in all, it was a great trip. I'm pleased that it was fairly inexpensive overall (seriously, the cost for gas, etc was cheaper than plane tickets) and I'm glad that BD was a great sport about staying in the car for such a long time. Hopefully I can convince Jeff to repeat the experience with us, thus reducing the chances of me hurling myself out of the car.

Doing time

Yesterday Jeff and I celebrated 10 years of marriage. Hooray! We beat Jon and Kate and we don't have eight kids or a TV show!

When we mention to people who have just met us that we've been together for 10 years (14 including dating and such), they're always amazed. The funny thing is that most of the time, I'm not. I know his family. The men in his family are not about "I have to go find myself/afraid of commitment/need to make sure you're my soulmate." None of that. If they find someone they love, that's it. They propose, the woman accepts and there is marriage. These are very steadfast men in their devotion to their wives.

But sometimes I'm amazed more in the way of, "HOW THE HELL DO YOU PUT UP WITH MY ASS?" Seriously -- my neurotic, guilty-pleasure TV watching, opposite music taste, tempestuous, defensive, angry, passive-aggressive ass? At my worst (which he has seen), I am not a nice person. Whole cities lie in rubble of my destruction. And he's been the target sometimes. Yet he still loves me and sticks with me.

It is a strange thing to realize that someone loves you for all your faults, and also refuses to see/acknowledge them. In the past, when I asked what he loved the most about me, he'd say, "Viv." Which is a maddening answer, when you want specifics. But the older I get, the more I understand.

He loves everything. Not in a singularity, but everything that makes up the person as the package. Jeff has said the same thing about Benevolent Dictator. It's impressive to think about sometimes.

And I realize this in the wake of our adventure at Restaurant Muramoto. I hoped he would like it. I wanted him to like it. In all honesty, I had about 3/4 of our dinner. He didn't have as much. I felt guilty until he told me that part of the pleasure of dinner was seeing me have so much fun. Of course, after we saw Public Enemies (aka: BALE/DEPP CHEEKBONE-OFF!), he couldn't stop talking about a bacon pizza and turtle sundae.

But you know what? If a man can get that much pleasure out of watching me have fun at a meal he's meh with, then I think that's a wonderful thing. I love that man. For everything about him -- when I am happy with him and when I want to rip him a new one. He's a good man and I'm one lucky woman to have him.

Of course, he's also damn lucky to have a woman who puts up with his video games, odd Viking metal love, ramblings and the fact that he can't seem to find the hamper to save his life.

Happy 10th anniversary love. I'm willing to do life with you.

So where the hell have I been?

Sorry about the outage for the past couple of weeks. I've been busy with work (real paid work, not just working as Benevolent Dictator's minion). Not to mention, I spent last week visiting my sister and her family in upstate New York. It was a good time with the family and surrounded by short ones. Perhaps one of the biggest perks was seeing the kids tear around the house looking for Easter eggs.

But I won't deny the fact that I'm glad to be home. I really missed Jeff, sleeping in my own bed and the various things associated with being home. I learned on this trip that my daughter's superhero power is that she's an empath -- she takes all negative energy (sadness, anger, whatever) and directs it into a sonic scream that can shatter glass. I think that she beat me to the Lion's Roar:

Kung Fu Hustle - Lion's Roar | Movies & TV | SPIKE.com

I think she's going to seriously kick my ass if this keeps up.

In salute of grandparents everywhere

I know, I know, my faithful reader(s?) -- you're probably looking at this blog and going, "WHERE THE FUCK IS THE U2 REVIEW?" All in good time, all in good time. I need to digest this CD a little more. No Line on the Horizon is a pretty heavy album to listen to at times.

Anyways, I was reading Her Bad Mother, when she talked about this article, in which, she and her mother are featured. Long story short, some parents are upset by how uninvolved their parents are with the grandkids.

I think that news of Marian Robinson, who is considered the "First Grandparent," may be bringing up issues between parents and their parents about their grandchildren. Part of it I think is an unrealistic expectation -- if you don't remember your parents as exactly being the most enthusiastic caregivers, then you shouldn't be surprised if they're not exactly falling all over themselves to change a diaper or babysit.

But I guess, reading that article, I felt kind of bad for the grandkids in general. Because a lot of time with family and how close you are with relatives, it's not the big holiday visits, but the little, mundane day-to-day things that can solidify closeness.

For the record, I feel very blessed in the grandparent department. Jeff's parents, who live in Florida, have been very hands-on when they're in town. I've talked about in the past about how much of a help she was when I gave birth to Benevolent Dictator. She's also a good person to talk to for advice about kids (after all, she raised three great guys and is now a grandmother of four beautiful girls). Jeff's father is also a great cuddler and always has an open pair of arms to snuggle his grandkids.

My mom also offers me a respite every week by coming up with my grandmother to hang out and spoil Benevolent Dictator rotten (BD apparently is like me -- the more people around her, the happier she is). She's also gotten the hang of the routine and what to do during regular visits and is pretty much a person I trust with BD. After all, if she's seeing the kid every week, she has to adhere to my rules.

As a result, BD's gotten a great benefit in general from this. She loves talking with her grandparents in Florida and watching them on the webcam, and she also looks forward to seeing my mom and grandma (Another side benefit? My 96-year-old grandma apparently also looks forward to these visits and talks about them for days. I think in a way, it might help her a little too.).

I will admit some benefit to having someone watch BD for a few days, but I think it's also that this has made me feel closer to not only my mother, but Jeff's mother too. It's nice knowing that there's someone in your corner, willing to help out when you need it, and willing to bail you out when you need it. Even if it's a stinky diaper, a hot meal or a date night out with the husband.

I don't see it as something they owe me. If they can't babysit, that's fine. They have a life. I don't expect them to drop everything and bail me out. After all, I'm a grown-ass woman and a parent. But I gotta say, I love that they're willing to help us out. I couldn't imagine raising a child without outside help and remaining sane.

So I guess, if you're reading this Mom, thanks. It means a lot to me that you've been a great help. And for Jeff's mom, you're also a wonderful woman for the advice and help you offer while you're here. I'm glad to know BD's got some great grandparents in her life. And I think that as she grows, it'll be her benefit to have many adult role models in her life.

Edited to add: On second reading of the New York Times' article, I wonder about racial, socioeconomic differences in this. I mean, upon talking to some of my neighbors (who came from Yemen and Ecuador), living with the parents until they got married was normal. Chinese culture has that the grandparents live with the parents and the grandkids. Jeff has said he's expected my mom to move in with us when she retires. My response was that I didn't expect that because both me and my mom know we'd kill each other in a week or so. Living nearby yes, living with? OH HELL TO THE NAW.

Anyway, it just seems like the New York Times and maybe, MAYBE, white, middle-class America is discovering this now, like they're digging it out of some sort of time capsule. Am I crazy to think that?

So, when are you having your next kid?

That was one question I was hoping to kind of get an answer to (and was asked by my cousins) when I visited my sister and her family last week.

The answer I got? Not a fucking clue. I was hoping that watching my nephew, niece and Benevolent Dictator would offer some answer, but nothing clear came from the heavens to my brain.

It was a great time however. I got some serious bonding time with my nephew, Rooster, (the way to his heart? Apparently answering all his "why?" questions and a milkshake) and Benevolent Dictator and Mad-Eye Maddie hit it off quite well. They were always happy to see each other, whereas Rooster wasn't always thrilled with the two girls because they'd get up in his business and steal his Legos.

I have now seen the future -- and the future will require arguing skills like an attorney, negotiation tactics to rival the United Nations and a bellow that rivals the Landlady's Lion's Roar from Kung Fu Hustle.

We also had some great barbecue from Dinosaur BBQ, fabulous dim sum from Cantonese House and a great fish fry from the Cartwright Inn. I had a great time seeing my cousins Alicia (and her finance Mark) and Stephanie.

Last but not least, it was great to see my sister. I do miss talking to her and hanging out. It's interesting to see how different we are at times, and on occasion, she gives me the kick in the ass that I need sometimes.

So yeah, I'm back home now and readjusting to life in Wisconsin. I'm feeling slightly more invigorated and ready to tackle October -- which is shaping up to be a busy, busy month.

And we're back!

Cue lights! Action! SNARK!

I'm back from two weeks of fun with the in-laws and Benevolent Dictator in sunny, hot Florida. Ate lots of good food (my mother-in-law has a lock on home cookin and we also had some great seafood), swam a lot (BD was ever the cutie in her little swimsuit) and just basically had fun and chilled.

My mother-in-law also gave me and Jeff a day to ourselves, which we spent at the Ringling Museum. Seriously cool. One of my favorite moments was having lunch at Treviso Restaurant watching a snapping turtle attempt to eat an egret's toe. I also enjoyed the Phantasmagoria: Spectors of Absence, even though Jeff thought it was a bit "artier than thou."

Benevolent Dictator continues in her quest to enlist an army to help her rule the world. Our last night in Florida, we went out for dinner and seriously, people were stopping at our table to say that she was adorable and stopping Jeff on the way out the door to say she was gorgeous.

Everywhere we went, people would say that BD was beautiful, such a cutie and be fawning all over her.

I think I got an idea as to what it's like to be Brangelina with Shiloh.

Anyways, we had a blast, but it's also good to be home. I'll have a newsletter up about BD's 11th month in the coming days as well as other postings. Right now I'm just adjusting to being back at home and trying to get my bearings back.

Members of New Kids on the Block, according to my husband

Danny
Donnie
Joe
Joey-Joe
Tasty Taste
Flavor Flav
Bobby Flay

My niece is an anime character

On Sunday, Jeff and I made another trip back to Brewtown to see my mom, grandma, sister and the two little troublemakers (who are too adorable for words). Maddie is now out of house arrest and quite a cute little girl. She literally smiles like an anime character, as illustrated below:



She's also a bit more calm and laid back than her big brother -- who loves exploring and trying out new things. It's funny seeing the contrast between the two. For a long time Stella and I were comparing Elliott toStitch from Lilo and Stitch. My favorite story is how Elliott was in home, feeling a bit of cabin fever, and he looked outside the window and said the following:

"Climb. Wall. Climb wall."

I wouldn't be surprised if I came over to her house and saw Elliott climbing around the ceiling. But on Sunday, he decided to check out the big slides on the playground, with Uncle Jeff being the good guy and catching him when he hit the bottom.

Not to mention, while I was at home, I managed to get some Georgie Porgie's -- which has killer onion rings, fries, burgers, gyros and blueberry shakes. Seriously -- Georgie's blueberry shakes are the best that I've ever had. They beat Culver's by a mile. That's one reason why sometimes going home is a good thing.

It's funny how a baby...

Can be more entertaining than watching TV or a movie.

That's what I discovered visiting my sister and her family and my mom this weekend (Yes, Jeff and I braved leaving the house, despite the heavy snow that hit our area, which made it interesting to dig our way into our house). It was the first time that we saw Mad-Eye Maddie since she returned home from the hospital -- apparently the girl got that nickname for the one-eyed looks she'd shoot her dad.

Not to mention, there was also the bundle of hyperactive energy in a 28-pound package named Elliott. For a boy who's very headstrong and outgoing, I never expected him to crawl up me when his mother inflated the Aerobed. As for his sister, he's still trying to figure out who this new interloper is in his house -- but he's been a sweetheart to her, calling her MeMo, and patting her head and trying to offer "Elliott Kisses" aka headbutts.

I think that Jeff was amused to see Elliott kicking around a miniature soccer ball and a balloon. Maybe Dan's nightmare of having a soccer-playing son will come true. Heh.

My uncle, grandma and cousin Patricia also braved the weather to drive from Milwaukee to see us also. It was a nice few hours just to hang out and I wish that we had more time together, but Jeff and I wanted to get back home to dig our way back into the house.

All in all, it was a good weekend to be with family -- they were a lot of fun to be around. Hopefully there will be more days like this -- but with better travel weather.

Highs, lows and everything inbetween

Given how public I can be about my profane, weird, wacky thoughts as well as my opinions about other things, I also am pretty damn private about some of the personal stuff going on in my life. I think it's because I don't like being a drama queen or drawing attention to all the weird stuff going on in my life, especially when there's a lot of people with worse situations.

But last week, immediately after Maddie was born, she had a rough start. A little more than 24 hours after her birth, she was diagnosed with transposition of the great arteries (aka TOGA, which got my chanting like Bluto from Animal House for a second). My mom first called me, but didn't offer a lot of information about what was going on, but after talking to Stella for a bit, I got enough information to figure out what was going on via the Internet.

No, I did not look at Web MD, otherwise I think I would've gotten a diagnosis that Maddie had cancer. However, medical school websites offered me enough of an idea as to what was going on so what fears I had were eased a little bit.

Fortunately, phone calls between me, Stella and Dan helped educate me more about what was going on. In a sick way, if you had to have a heart defect, TOGA's not a bad one to have. But it was still hard to take the news. Babies aren't supposed to start their lives in such a tough way, but it occurs. It's a harsh reminder that nothing is promised to us -- we aren't promised health, wealth or even that we'll survive.

It was a hard waiting period for me and I can imagine how hard it was for my sister and her husband. However, my sister's a tough cookie and after the initial shock, they both showed how strong they were through the whole ordeal. Dan's parents also deserve a lot of thanks and praise for taking care of Elliott during this time (who also provided a bit of comedy relief to his parents during this time).

Maddie underwent her surgery on Thursday, and she's now in recovery. We don't know how long she'll be in the hospital -- recovery's up to this little feisty girl. From what I've heard, she's a little scrapper -- the nurses are scared of her because she hates diaper changes and temperature checks (hey, who likes having a thermometer up their ass?) and lets them know on no uncertain terms. While she's supposed to be getting plenty of rest and recovering, Maddie's been twitching, fussing, clenching and unclenching her fists.

I've got a lot of hope for that girl. She's one tough cookie and I have a feeling that she's going to need her strength to deal with her big brother, who's one hurricane of energy.

Welcome to the world little girl -- I think that you've proven that you're tough enough to deal with whatever comes your way.

Hard choices

Shasta had an interesting post about the debate most moms face -- work vs kids. Even before knowing that I was pregnant, that's been a debate that's been raging in my head. Admittedly, Shas had an interesting question as to where the men were in the debate about staying home vs working.

I remember when Jeff and I were dating, the question came up along with the other questions about whether we'd want children, where we'd live, etc. Jeff and I came to the mutual agreement that it whoever earned more money would be the breadwinner and the other person would stay at home. Then we got married and well, careerwise, he's earning a hell of a lot more than I am.

So when I got pregnant, the answer seemed obvious -- even more so when I look at my salary and realize that it's not worth it to work. I might be losing money with playing for child care, gas, lunch money. And in all honesty, the money I would be bringing in would be less than minimum wage.

Let me break it down for a second -- according to the Office of Child Care and Family Resources, the average cost of infant care is about $12,000 a year, while preschool daycare averages $8,500. While having one child in daycare would cut my income by more than half (once taxes and bennies were taken out), two children in daycare would put me in the hole. Jeff and I want more than one child, so it's obvious that having me work would be a losing proposition.

The hard thing is that careerwise -- to stop everything for a few years so I can take care of kids -- is tantamount to career suicide. We all know how employers look at it when there's a five (or more) year gap in your resume.

And I hate that, because I love what I do. While I'm lucky in that I can work from home and create my own thing, I know that it's not going to offer the same health benefits, vacation perks and steady income like my job.

I agree with Shasta that it sucks that men don't have to deal with that question, but I don't think it's as simple as "well, the man works, and the woman stays at home." If you're earning the median income of approximately $43,000, you can't stop working, but at the same time, you're not bringing in enough money to take care of things and save up for education or retirement.

I guess that what I'm saying is that I think that this is a symptom of a higher problem in our society, or perhaps the death of idealism. We say that we should be able to do a job we love, but if it doesn't pay enough, do we have to sacrifice our careers for our families?

Welcome to the world Maddie!

Along with the groundhog predictions of six weeks of winter (or not, depending on who you believe), there was also other big news for me today -- my sister gave birth to her second child, Madeline!

No word yet as to whether or not Maddie saw her shadow and predicted six more weeks of winter. But welcome to the world baby girl!

I don't know how she does it....

But after two days with my nephew, I'm exhausted. I have no idea where my sister and her husband get the energy to deal with a 15-month-old whirling dervish of energy. The Rooster tosses Duplo blocks everywhere, talks, shouts, coos, giggles and squirms around so much my sister has to pin the boy down with one leg to change his diaper.

And I love the little guy. He's funny, sweet and demanding all at the same time. Excellent dancer also. He does this great little shuffle like Sandman Sims around the kitchen floor -- right before he runs screaming across the room to play with his toys.

There's also nothing like having a 15-month old wake you up with his excited chattering about breakfast.

Many thanks to the sister, her husband and the little guy for putting up with me. I'd type more....but seriously, I'm about to pass out. They should bottle whatever that kid's on. They'd make a fortune. Of course there would be the side effect of needing a nap around noon, but I think people can live with that.

Happy Birthday Stella and Abby!

Last Friday was Abby's birthday! She of the hyperactive stories and photography skillz!

AND!

Today's my sister's birthday! Happy 28th you hot momma you!

I hope that both of you had a good birthday. Or if you weren't good, you were at least interesting *evil grin*.

Thank you Stella!

After coming back from work today, I was delighted to find that my sister -- she who is cooler than me -- sent me a few b-day pressies:

Freakonomics, which looks to be a really cool book. I've been in a bit of a book drought lately. I've been picking through old Rolling Stones, the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and other random things that I've read and re-read a billion times. So I'm looking forward to reading Freakonomics to say the least.

Wallace and Gromit -- a box set of the shorts and Curse of the Were-Rabbit! THE BUNNIES! I is dead from the cute. *thud*

Henry Rollins' Talk is Cheap, Vol. 1. I like the message that came with the CD: "To Crazy Aunt (Viv), I liked the look of the boy on the CD cover. He looked like he would be fun to hang out with. He makes faces like I do. Ba Ba Ja Ja Wah!!"

Told you my nephew was brilliant. Anyways, many thanks to my sister and her family for the presents. Much love to you guys.

Cuteness reigns supreme!

Last weekend, I managed to head back to home and see my sister, Rooster, Mom and Grandma. This visit was more successful than the previous visit, where Rooster was a little cranky.

This time, he was abso-fucking-lutely adorable. He's got a great little laugh, a throaty "He! He! He!" that makes me giggle also. I predict he'll grow up to be a heartbreaker -- he's really good at looking at people, smiling and then hiding himself in his mother's neck and looking shy.

We also went kite flying at the school by my mom's. That wasn't so successful. There wasn't a breeze and we weren't flying the kite. We were more throwing the kite in the air and running like hell to try and get it in the air, only to have it come crashing to the ground. At least Rooster got his nails cut.

The funniest thing I learned is that my sister (who was pretty slim and athletic to begin with) has gone down to a size eight, thanks to breastfeeding the little tyke. Maybe that explains the baby boom in Hollywood -- Kids are the ultimate accessory and they can keep you slim by sucking the nutrients out of you!

DON'T! STOP! DANCING!

On Friday, I visited my mom, grandma, sis and nephew. For some reason, travel doesn't quite agree with him. Maybe it's the time change, the change of atmosphere or something else, but he usually gets a bit fussy when in Wisconsin, which results in the following phrase:

"He's normally a good baby! He's not this fussy at home!"

But yeah, he can fuss a bit. We tried a bunch of things to make him happy -- singing, waving toys and carrying him around. He did start laughing and giggling when I began dancing for him. Not the "I'm-too-cool-bite-my-lower-lip" nighclub dance, but the insane tapdancer on crack type of dancing mixed in with dance moves stolen from Blossom and MTV's The Grind.

For a moment, I felt like Ann Darrow dancing for King Kong, except instead of getting slapped over a cliff, I was going to have a squawky, angry baby on my hands.

To his credit, Little O was a good kid at Mayfair Mall. He smiled, he cooed, he giggled and kicked his mom in the stomach as he bounced up and down in excitement at seeing new things. He was a little tired and angry on the way home. And he let us know in no uncertain terms.

Me and sister girl ran out of tunes to sing. We sang songs about Old McDonald, the wheels on the bus (with lines about therapy dogs, hungry dads and angry bus drivers), Itsy Bisty Spiders and Miss Mary Mack and her boyfriend. After that, I started singing Beatles' Yesterday. It's amazing what one can remember when you're under the stress. He did like the Beatles, which shows good taste in music.

Sister girl apologized for his behavior.

"It's no problem," I replied. "I did think of throwing myself from the car though."

I kid, I kid. He's still abso-fucking-lutely adorable and I love seeing him in all his facets of good and bad. He's a baby and he's honest in his emotions, which I wish I could get away with sometimes. I wish I could just start saying, "I'M! NOT! HAPPY! I! WANT! FOOD! NOW! I! WANT! TO! GO! HOME! NOW!" without getting my ass kicked by other adults.

Welcome to the world Rooster!

Yesterday when I was IMing my sister, she said that Rooster (aka my nephew) hadn't come out yet. I wrote the following to tell her to tell him:

Elliott -- this is your auntie. If you don't come out, I can't buy you that drum kit that I promised you.

Apparently it worked because she went into labor and at approximately 8:30 p.m. on Aug. 1, Elliott "Rooster" came into the world. I'm thrilled to bits. The family's doing good. And so, to commemorate the Rooster's hatching, here's a list of noteworthy events that occurred that day:

World War I erupts in 1914 (hrrm...that's not a good way to start this out);
Columbus lands in South America in 1498 (not that great either....)

Hrrm....none of these are working. Let me just say that the auspicious event on Aug. 1 is the birth of my nephew. I'm gobsmacked. And now I have a ton of Walter the Farting Dog books to buy him -- as well as a drum kit.

Free writing moment

Keidra's post about her grandmother on her other blog, No Attention, got me mulling over my dad -- well, that and listening to U2's "Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own" (What? I can't help it if I reference U2 a lot in my life!).

My dad died when I was 20. He had a lot of illness -- various cancers and a stroke finally did him in. We had a stormy relationship (which I'm perfectly honest about). He was traditional Chinese -- if you disobeyed him, you got your ass kicked. I became a teenage girl -- we can see where this went.

Despite this, we both loved each other very much. I was his little girl and he was my dad. And I've been lucky to carry a lot of good memories about him, which is mixed in with the shitty stuff.

The other day, Jeff was mowing the lawn and I had the house windows open. The smell of freshly-cut grass took me back to the days when my dad would be outside, mowing the lawn, shirt off and his wiry body pushing that ancient Toro up and down the backyard in neat rows.

Every few minutes the lawnmower would stop and he'd take the huge bags of grass and dump them onto the garden as mulch. He was cheap like that. He would never buy mulch, but he'd use the lawn clippings. Now that I think about it, environmentalists would love that idea.

At the end of the mowing, he'd flip the lawnmower on its side and hose down the blades to keep them clean and sharp. I would come out with a glass of ice water for him, which he would gulp down.

"Can you scratch my back?" he'd often ask.

I happily obliged and sat outside, enjoying the summer weather, as he'd mumble instructions like "Higher," "Lower," "left" or "right there." After the sun set, we'd go inside and watch wrestling together.

"It's all fake," he'd say.

Funny how scents can revive memories.