Baby once more

I'm almost as surprised as you are, kid:  being a dada for the second time is so much easier.  Kid 1 was hard.  Much sleeplessness, lots of adrenalin, I had a job.  And, of course, we lacked experience.  Breast feeding, for example, took two of us as docking him was tricky (as it is if you haven't done it before).  We had to ask neighbors for bottle parts in the middle of the night.  Changing a diaper required thought.  Amateurs.

But I think the thing that made it most difficult was that Kid 1 changed our lives.  Obvious, expected, shocking nonetheless.  And Kid 2?  More of the same.  So it's going just fine here, a very mellow time for all, and thank goodness for that.

Someone else's words

I read.  I read a lot.  And now that I'm up at night somewhat more than usual, I'm reading more than ever, albeit sometimes a bit blearily.  Bleary or not, when I read I note the good bits, some of which I later copy out.  The result is my "quotes" file which, with the years, has gotten a bit bulky (220 pp., >1200 individual items at last count).  Shan't burden you with it here, but, since the purpose of this blog is to let you keep up with me and my thoughts, I will start sharing those quotes as I find them.  That's what the new text box to the right is for.

These first two quotes are from Hunter S. Thompson's first novel, The Rum Diary, which I finished last night.  It's not very good, not very good at all, but like all of his writing it's an easy read and it bears his distinctly desperate mark as clearly as any of his stuff.  I've read him for years, always searching for a book as tremendously entertaining as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.  Always searching, never finding.  Few of even those who do write have more than one really good book in 'em, and since Hunter's gone now I don't suppose we'll ever see Fear and Loathing's like.

By the way, my quoting should not be construed as my endorsement:  I note things that strike me for whatever reason, and often because they strike me as wrong.  But each of these quotes can certainly be taken as something I'd be happy to think about more, and even talk about, should it strike you the same way.

Fairfax Provides

Talia this morning asked why we didn't yet have a proper stereo.  I've been thinking, too, it's a pity we don't because we'll soon be spending a lot of time sitting around the place, and we'll need it.  The reason is "no amplifier," an age-old story with us, as some of our friends can well attest.  I have one, you know, a very old Scott 299c, but it's in my mother's storage shed; I hope to pick it up this summer sometime.  While at the coffeeshop today I did check on eBay to see if there were any of the same nearby for a reasonable price, but no luck.  Also talked some with my dad, who built this amplifier, which both he and I used for many years.

And then I found one on the sidewalk while biking home with Felix today.  A nice integrated amp, a Sony STD-D615.  Even the remote control works.  So now we have music.  Happiness seems to come easy here, even if babies don't.

Six of Swords

Yesterday was the first Fairfax Farmer’s Market of the season, an event we had hoped not to be able to attend.  The baby being late, however, we went and we had a good time.  While sitting on a log eating pizza we saw the local Seeress pass by.  A woman dressed all in white with a white peaked cap, she wanders around these sorts of events dispensing advice and, presumably, magic.  We beckoned to her and graciously she floated over, then asked Talia if she had any questions.  Talia said Yes, and asked the obvious:  When would the baby arrive?  Disconcertingly, the Seeress asked if we were expecting, a question that did little to elevate our opinion of her knowledge of matters temporal.  The belly having been pointed out to her (and in her defense it should be noted that Talia was, as usual these days, dressed all in black), she spent a minute studying the bulge then asked Talia to draw a card from a Tarot deck she was holding.  Talia did so, pulling the Six of Swords, which card showed a picture of a cloaked woman and child sitting in a skiff being poled across a stream by a man.  I can't deny feeling a frisson upon seeing it.

The card, the Seeress pointed out, represented Talia being taken on a journey.  Talia, like the woman in the boat, was making her way across the water, but while she could see the land, she was not there yet and could do nothing at this time but sit and wait.  (She said nothing about Felix or myself, though we are both quite clearly depicted on the same card.  Hmph.)  She did suggest a couple of things by way of practical help, however:  that Talia sit next to the ocean on a receding tide with her legs splayed, and that we assure the baby that we were really ready for it to arrive and that it had no need to fear the birth therefore.  Having already gone to the beach that day we acted on only her second suggestion, speaking to the baby in what I hope seemed like confident tones.  I pointedly did not mention my earlier, confessional blog entry on the topic of baby readiness or lack thereof.

We crossed the water today, Talia and I, but they sent us back.  It may be we'll have to sit on the beach after all.

Waiting