Our Latest Look...

This one we took in February 07. Both Mrs. eSquared and the Radiologist gushed cute sayings and then said she looks like me. I think she looks like W.C. Fields.

Either way... I don't think it's a complement... for either of us.

Our First Peek...

We had our first look at Baby Pink in November 2006 at Evergreen Hospital in Kirkland.

Ten Years Later…

I was gutting my way through Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane’s abysmal 2005 remake of The Producers. I loved Gene Wilder and Zero Icanneverrememberhislastname in the 1968 original, when Mrs. eSquared walked up to me with her lips pursed, and her eyebrows knitted together. She thrust a white plastic stick at me and stared.

After a moment I recognized the stick as a home pregnancy test; the first home pregnancy test we’ve needed in our relationship. I looked cautiously from the symbols on the test to her eyes… back and forth. She was waiting for my response… that was clear. There was just one problem. I couldn’t read the test thingy. Horizontal lines… vertical lines… pluses… minuses… I knew it said something important and from the look on Mrs. eSquared’s face, really important. I just had no idea what it was.

Finally, I deduced that if the test was negative, and everything was normal, we wouldn’t be having this… silent, coded conversation. So I guessed.

We’re having a baby? I said…

Indeed we are. I can’t wait to meet her.

The Beginning

Around Valentine’s Day, Avi posted this meme on his blog. I thought it was a fun one, and timely, so I bookmarked it and filed it off in the “remember for later” pile.

I think it is most appropriate for the re-dedication of this blog to fatherhood, specifically, my fatherhood. I still get a little clinchy when I use that level of directness. So… without further adieu… the Beginning.

Where/how did you meet?
Mrs. eSquared and I met when we both worked at a hotel in Bothell. We became fast friends, and stayed so for eighteen months. Then, I just knew… knew I wanted more; knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

How long have you known each other?
We met in April of 1992. Fifteen years… wow.

How long after you met did you start dating?
Like I mentioned above, we were friends about a year and a half.

How long did you date before you were engaged?
Again, about fourteen months, give or take.

How long was your engagement?
I surprised her on Memorial Day, in Richards Park in Eugene Oregon. We were married in December. So we were engaged for seven months.

How long have you been married?
As of last December, we’ve been married eleven years.

What is your anniversary?
December 16th 1995

How many people came to your wedding reception?
Around 150, I think. It’s still a blur. Even now, eleven years later, we meet people (I think for the first time) and Mrs. E2 says “No… they were at our wedding… they gave us the (whatever).”

What kind of cake did you serve?
The cake… our one glitch. A long story, but we had an old family friend make it… supposedly a master pastry chef, from Austria or something like that. To be delicate, it sucked top to bottom, raspberry filling to marzipan icing. Sucked.

Where was your wedding?
We were married in the Chapel on the Northwest College (now Northwest University).

What did you serve for your meal?
We had an early afternoon wedding… we served salads and sandwich platters. Neither of which we had time to eat. We went through Taco Bell on our way to the Bed and Breakfast.

How many people were there in your bridal party?
Three-a-piece

Are you still friends with them all?
Yup. Though some are in different states, and we don’t talk that much.

Did you or your spouse cry during the ceremony?
Yes, both of us.

Most special moment of your wedding day?
The whole day was the best of my life (so far). If I had to pick… it would be seeing how beautiful Mrs. eSquared was and looking into her eyes.

Any funny moments?
Yeah… when we were holding hands at the alter, I was holding hers ridiculously high… chest high. I don’t know why.

Any big disasters?
Other than the cake…. None.

Where did you go on your honeymoon?
Cabo san Lucas

How long were you gone?
6 days

If you were to do your wedding over, what would you change?
The cake.

What side of the bed do you sleep on?
Generally… I sleep on the right. But recently, with the pregnancy, we trade occasionally.

What size is your bed?
Queen

Greatest strength as a couple?
Humor and communication…

Greatest challenge as a couple?
Communication.

What is your song?
We don’t really have one. Mrs. eSquared might disagree with me… but I can’t think of one. We have movies.

What did you dance your first dance to?
The Oompa song (danced with Mrs. eSquared’s second grade class. It was a hoot.

What kind of flowers did you have at your wedding?
One of my fondest memories about our wedding. My favorite flower has always been the stargazer lily. Because it’s my favorite, Mrs. eSquared chose it as the focus of our wedding flora.

Are your wedding bands engraved? What do they say?
My ring is engraved with the ever-romantic: 14K FG

My beautiful wife

T. S. Elliot

Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

Eavesdropping…

Anytime more then six months ago…

Mrs. eSquared: [coming through the door with lots of bags from the mall] “Hi babe…”

Me: [although initially panicked, I realize Mrs. E2 only borrows clothes from the shops. She’ll return them all within three weeks, and check-out another bunch] “Hey pal. Whatchagotthere?

Mrs. E2: “Oh… a little of this, and a little of that.”

Me: [turning back to the Xbox game I currently SUCK at] “Ah, that’s cool. DIE YOU S.O.B.”

About 15 minutes pass…

Mrs. E2 [modeling her latest black turtle-neck, or black slacks] “Well… what do you think?

Me: [pausing the hopelessness that is the game I’m playing] “Oh… nice.”

Mrs. E2: [her face falling into a frown] “You hate it.”

Me: [in my high and defensive Mrs. E2 has learned not to trust] “No… they’re fine… really.”

We spend the next ten minutes convincing her that she shouldn’t take the slacks back… which she takes back anyway in a couple of weeks.

Now… let’s turn the tables a bit.

Anytime more then six months ago…

Me: [coming through the door with a bag from the mall] “Hi babe…”

Mrs. eSquared: [panicked] “Hey pal. Whatchagotthere?

Me: “Oh… a little of this, and a little of that.”

Mrs. eSquared: [turning back to the book she is currently studying] “Hummm.”


Me: [taking a moment to inhale the sweet smell of new electronic equipment as I open the box - tittering with excitement] “Well… what do you think?

Mrs. eSquared: [applying the memorized equations and algorithms she learned to calculate an item’s cost by the size and color of the box ] “Oh… nice.”

Me: [my face falling into a frown] “You hate it.”

Mrs. eSquared: [transparent in her apathy] “No… they’re fine… really.”

She spends the next ten minutes convincing me that I should take the thing back.


… and the tables come full circle.

Anytime in the last six months…

Mrs. eSquared: [coming through the door with lots of bags from the mall] “Hi babe…”

Me: [although initially panicked, I realize Mrs. E2 only borrows clothes from the shops. She’ll return them all within three weeks, and check-out another bunch] “Hey pal. Whatchagotthere?

Mrs. E2: “Oh… a little of this, and a little of that.”

Me: [turning back to the Xbox game I currently SUCK at] “Ah, that’s cool. DIE YOU S.O.B.”

About 15 minutes pass…

Mrs. E2 [parading the baby clothes she just got] “Well… what do you think?

Me: [pausing the hopelessness that is the game I’m playing, and growing dizzy looking at all the little suits, oneziez, shorts, pants, shirts and hats (yes, hats) arranged on the table] “Oh… that one has a cute carrot on it… nice.”

Mrs. E2: [her face falling into a frown] “You hate them.”

Me: [in my high and defensive Mrs. E2 has learned not to trust] “No… they’re fine… really.”

We spend the next ten minutes convincing her that we will never need to wash baby clothes. We’ll simply use them once, and throw them out. We’ve run out of room to store them… now, we’ve filled garbage sacks (clean ones) with all the clothes our egglet has.

Names & Labels… Labels & Names…

Baby Pink arrived the other day. No, not in that way… she is still snug inside Mrs. eSquared. What I mean is, anyone who looks can see her. Even some distance away, it’s evident that she has arrived, kicking, nudging, elbowing and bumping.

Mrs. E2 was determined to hide Baby Pink at her place of employment until the New Year. Fortunately, she has the last couple of weeks of 2006 off. Once Mrs. E2 was done working for the year, *WHAP* she got big.

She went back to work this week with an obvious change from the last time her colleagues saw her. Why do people (women especially) get all excited when they see a pregnant woman? Is pregnancy a special initiation into a club that men and women that haven’t experienced childbirth just aren’t invited to?

You know you’ve seen it… some lady losing it when she sees a pregnant woman: someone in the line at the bank, coffee place or supermarket; a complete stranger.

First, the questions:

Secret Club Member: (screeching as she hunkers down and runs over with her hand out to touch the belly) “Oooohhhaaaaahhhheeeeeehh… Look what you’ve been up to!”

Unwitting Pregnant Woman: “Wha!”

SCM: (sporting wide eyes and a crazed smile) “When aaaaaaaare yoooooou duuuuue?”

UPW: (a bit dazed, and taken aback with a strange woman touching her belly) “April,” she squeaks.

SCM: (rubbing UPW’s belly in circles and lowering her voice for the illusion of confidence) “Do you know what it is yet?”

UPW: (resisting the urge to say “human,” or “none or your business.”) “We’re having a girl,” as she narrows her eyes.

SCM: (feeling the excitement of another potential club member) “Ahhh… what’s her name?

UPW: (concealing the urge to break her hand off at the wrist) “Well… we like Jada.”

SCM: (her smile cascades into a frown and she knits here eyebrows together) “Humpfgh. That’s an interesting name.”

(Long, silent pause)

SCM: (puffing out a breath) “I once knew a crack-whore named Jada. What other names have you thought of?”

There are many amazing things about such interchanges, primarily, the complete lack of interest in the woman herself. If the ‘conversation’ is allowed to continue, the Secret Club Member glazes over and regales the Unwitting Pregnant Woman with tales of how wonderful pregnancy is, or how awful her 46 hours of labor were.

WTF?!?

Time to Pay the Piper…

As many of you know, the University of Washington recently declared me dangerously over-educated; I have the diploma to prove it.

Since then, I have been living in the wonderful and mostly imaginary land of, “Grace Period.” During my stay, I would receive notices telling me I must leave Grace Period, but unfortunately, Grace Period is such a beautiful and alluring place, I would simply acknowledge these notices and continue about my day in GP.

In Grace Period, the sun is warm, but not too hot and the air is clean and fresh. Food tastes better; sleep is deeper and more restful. Love is sweeter in Grace Period, and there is much freedom to do what you want to do, when you want to do it. In Grace Period, it truly is a wonderful life.

I’ve been deported.

Much to my chagrin and dismay, the cold, hard truth of the “Real World” has extradited me kicking and screaming. Now… I have to pay for the late-nights, the papers, the bad books, the excruciating classes, the mind-numbing comments from other students and the group presentations. I have to pay for watching my loved ones have fun while I sat at home on weekends reading the incomprehensible written by dead, French philosophers.

I will pay for this: three-hundred dollars at a time… for the rest of my life.

Conversations with Biology…

As you might imagine, Mrs. eSquared has been doing a fair amount of fretting about our upcoming bundle of joy. Though all of her worries are my worries… there have been a few that have been slightly more difficult to take on than others. When we first learned we were pregnant, Mrs. E2 started obsessing about childcare more than a year and a half before we needed it.

I realized this anxiety is probably biologically driven. Certainly, it’s in the best interest of the species for expectant mothers to be anxious about their young. Until now I’ve been unaware of the degree that new mothers are compelled to explore in their hormone-crazed delusion.

Mrs. E2: “I saw pregnant woman at work today.”
E2: “Yeah… “
Mrs. E2: “She’s about half-along as we are.”
E2: “Mmmm…”
Mrs. E2: “She’s twice as big…”
E2: [thinking to myself] oh no…
Mrs. E2: “Maybe we’re having a pigmy baby.”
E2: “What?!?”

There are more… I just can’t remember them right now.

Birdshit, Window & Concrete Cleaner...

Yesterday, I just got my hair cut, and I was on my way to the gas station when, *WHAP!* the biggest pile of birdshit I've ever seen hits my windshield. After I composed myself, and stopped screaming like a little girl, I was rather impressed. I remarked out loud, "Must've been a big bird."
So... as I'm filling the car with gas, I remember to buy some window washing fluid. The melting snow, sand and other dirt have made a mess of the car and the windows. I also decide to get the car washed rather than scrape the birdshit off with my ice scraper.

They did a really crappy job on the car... Yeah, the birdshit is gone, but now I have a partially clean car with big dirt streaks and spots. Oh well.. a battle for another day.

I came home and parked in the garage, and later... Mrs. eSquared and I come home from dinner and there is a huge puddle (more like a pond) if iridescent fluid under my car. I think it's antifreeze.

So... this morning, I pull the car out and get ready to crawl under to see what fresh evil my car has for me. I put my finger in the pond, which over night has sprouted rivers and tributaries.

"Humm... doesnt feel like antifreeze."
"Humm... doesnt smell like antifreeze."
"Humm... doesnt taste like antifreeze." It's window washing stuff (breath of relief, followed by a lot of spitting).

Breathing easier, I sprinkled kitty litter on the pond and rivers to absorb the liquid so I can just sweep it out.

At this point, reference this post from July: Passively Crowing the Garage… & Mother Stuff

I come out later to clean up the kittylitter and find this:

A gallon of concrete & asphault cleaner. Lovely. Old Crow has left for the day.

Hours later...

5:30 on a Stormy Sunday Morning

This is my favorite time of the day. Everyone is asleep, and the house is quiet. I’ve cleaned the kitchen and I’m waiting for the first drops of caffeine to issue from Mr. Coffee. Last nights pizza has dehydrated me, so I’m on my third glass of water. I’m sitting at the kitchen table surveying all the baby crap the family has purchased in the last 72 hours; my vision blurs… As I sit entranced in a thousand-yard stare, the teddy bear speaks using Denis Leary’s voice…

Teddy Bear: “Hey.”
eSquared: “Huh, who said that?”
TB: “Me silly, the bear… I’m not coming any closer.”
E2: “Aaahhh… A TALKING BEAR!”
TB: “Calm down, this is your imagination. You know, you’ll have to reach to touch me sooner or later… I’m not coming any closer.”
E2: “What are you talking about? I don’t want you any closer… I need coffee.”
TB: “I’m soft, and cute…. I also play a little tune.”
E2: “So…”
TB: “Go ahead, touch me.”
E2: “Is this really happening? Why do you want me to touch you so badly?”
TB: “I’m figurative… symbolic. I don’t need you to touch me, you need to reach out and embrace me.”
E2: “Why?”
TB: “I’m your life now, that’s why. Stuffed animals, little pink clothes, teletubbies, puke on your shoulder…
E2: “STOP.” “You’re freakin me out.”
TB: “Too bad. Get used to it…this is your life. You don’t have to hug me now, but you will eventually.”
E2: [heavy sigh] “Yeah, I know. How about when we get home? I’ll spend a little time with you. I think it’ll be a little weird here at grandma’s house.
TB: Whatever.

A Crafty Crow

The clothes washer and dryer happen to be in our part of the house. As a student, and then as a post-student (read unemployed) I was home frequently and didn’t have a set schedule. We have had an agreement with OC that she won’t enter our living space without our permission. Well… this is an agreement only in the fact she acknowledges it, and then completely ignores it when we’re not home.

In the first year we lived there, we thought it was a nuisance, but something we would overlook. In the second year, I would confront her regularly (in the spirit of direct communication) and she would nod eagerly, apologize and then completely disregard everything I said. The third year I have threatened. I have printed articles off the tenants’ rights website, and even threatened to charge her $100 for each violation.

Up until I got this job, she would ask me weekly what my schedule was and if she could ‘run a load of rugs.” She was visible elated when I told her I got a job and would be gone all day. Not because I got a job, not because she’s happy for me and my family… because I’ll be out of the house.

Immediately, things started to change… chairs would be moved, rugs would be moved. Even the garbage would be emptied. Just to mess with her, I would move things back. I’d leave little traps for her. I’d prey on her OCD and leave stuff I knew she couldn’t resist. Once, OC left a message on our phone asking us not to put clothes on the backs of her chairs because it wears varnish off. Can you believe that?!?

It’s like she thinks we don’t notice. I think that’s what pisses me off the most. So on Wednesday, I couldn’t bear it any more… I called her and asked if she had some time, I went up there and mustered all the tact and diplomacy I could. Once again, she nodded and agreed with me.

Here’s the weird part of the conversation. She asked me if Mrs. eSquared was pregnant. We specifically hid all the books, pamphlets and baby paraphernalia to keep it from her. The old crow snooped her boney ass through our house and found our stuff!

She also told me that Magpie was moving. She is looking for someone to replace her (as if she can be replaced) but only someone who will be gone all day because she wants the house all to herself. Maybe she can find someone to pay her for not living there.

The Same ol Stuff

It's Thanksgiving week... again!

This is the time of year that I always can’t believe is here. I never catch myself saying, "WOW! Groundhog Day again!" Even birthdays don’t seem to phase me. This concept was beyond me as a kid. Why would someone not care about their birthday? People give you stuff... I get anything I want for dinner (which was usually macaroni & cheese) and all the sugar a hyper kid can eat, or the parents can tolerate.
Only the holidays freak me out. Then I write the wrong date on everything for three months… and I’m good. Until another Halloween.

Commercialism: Macaroni and Cheese or Macaroni & Cheese.

Mrs. E2 and I are packing the cat in the car and heading south for the weekend for some time with the Fam. Wylie is generally good with the trip… he gets good drugs. In ways, I envy him.

Here’s a question for you. Take a moment and post an answer, one word will do.
If you could be an artist of some sort, (writer, musician, painter, etc.) and you knew you would be successful (whatever that means to you) what type of artist would you be?

Extra credit question: What would that scenario look like?

I’ll post my answer tomorrow, or the next day.

Six-Word Story Sunday

A while ago – I don’t remember exactly how long, I stumbled across a blogger that discussed six-word stories. One of the stories he mentioned has stayed with me. It has finally worn me down with its persistent nagging about wanting other little stories to play with, and to be set free from the confines between my ears.

As I write this I am struck by the ominous irony that Hemmingway’s six-word story has… for me… at this time. It’s all clear now. Hemmingway asserted that this was his best work. I don’t know if it is or not… all I know is: I can’t get it out of my mind.

I started this post with the intention of coming up with a few of my own… to keep this one company (as I mentioned a few lines ago). Now… I don’t want to detract from this moment. I will do many more six-word-story Sundays… just not today.

“For sale: baby shoes, never used.”

It may be late...

... but it's news to me

• School bus driver fired for obscene gesture to Bush wants job back

Go Seattle!

• Plastic trash vortex menaces Pacific sealife: study

Talk among yourselves

Magpie...

It was brought to my attention that I never really explained Magpie. And so without further adieu, Magpie bullets.

• She lives here during the week
• She has a house in Bellingham, but works here
• Old crow owns this house. She lives upstairs we rent out the downstairs.
• One of those houses that have a half-staircase going up, and half-staircase gong down from the front door.
• Magpie lives up there with Old Crow, she rents a room.
• Magpie is a hard, loud woman
• I saw her in Fred Meyer the other day... we completely ignored each other.
• Both OC and Magpie are long divorced, and their distain for things male (or just me) is evident.
• Magpie has a habit of heel-toe stomping about the house that drives me to distraction.
• It sounds like she is goose-stepping… with jackboots on
• Perhaps it's because old crow is deaf as a doorknob, but Magpie does not possess an 'indoor' voice.
• Every syllable shoots from her mouth like she is cheering at a football game
• I’m sure she is the nicest lady… just not to me.
• It is funny (for a short while) to listen to them watch something funny on TV
• OC: hee hee hee hee
• Magpie: HAA HAA HAA HAA

Added Features!!

Because I am sensitive to the needs of my readers - who are leading increasingly frenetic lives; I am changing the format of this blog.

I am doing away with the connective and transitioning elements of writing. Also, I am limiting my use of articles. In short, I am striving to write clear, concise points of information that you - dear reader, may glean the substance of my thoughts without unnecessary words and the time wasted reading (and writing) them.

For the immediate future, I shall write (and you shall read)...

Bulletpoints.

I Landed a Big One

Many of you know that I have been looking for a post-degree job. If you didn't know... I've been looking for a job since I graduated in June. Four months. WHEW! That's a lot of XBOX.

The skeptic in me doesn’t believe in providence, pre-destination or kismet. I believe Fortuna is beholden to us, not vise versa. I also believe in determinism, but that's another post altogether. Then there's the Forest Gump effect. Others may say its blind luck, or falling ass-over-tea-kettle (whatever that means) into situations of abundance; serendipity.

In August, Mrs. eSquared emailed me a job listing from craigslist. The position was a Technologist/Courseware Designer. It sounded like a dream job to me. Yes, it could be further away from my degree focus, but not much.

I applied via email, thought about how cool it would be to get the job for a few days and promptly forgot about it. When I did remember it, I assumed it met the same end as the other twenty-or-so resumes I pumped out weekly.

Monday, September 25th… they called.

Tuesday, September 26th 1:00pm… phone interview. I thought I totally blew it. I mean the kind of blowing it that is reserved for “what the f*ck was I thinking anyway” responses. The called two hours later for a meeting.

Wednesday, September 27th 4:00pm… In person interview. We went to a little coffee shop in Redmond. Again, I felt I may have only done worse if I didn’t show up… or was naked. They gave me an assignment to complete.

I turned the assignment… late. But I suppose they liked it.

Another assignment… turned in on Saturday, October 14th it was due the 13th. I thought I’d never hear from them again… really, really.

Monday, October 16th 9:00am… they call… owner of the company wants to meet me, 10am tomorrow.

Tuesday, October 17th 9:59am… I run through the office door with a tie on, and a coffee stain on my shirt, arrrrrgh. An hour and a half later I leave.

I start tomorrow.

Somebody pinch me.

Here are the position specs:

Technologist / Courseware Designer

This position involves figuring out how to use specific Microsoft business and developer software (.NET, SharePoint, Visual Studio, BizTalk, etc.) and then working collaboratively with team members to create training courses that show people how to use applications and tools to solve their business problems. Your job will be to create 3-4 “fast track” instructor-led training classes each year. The deliverables include working with a subject matter expert (one of our instructors) in a Program Manager capacity to:

• Define a class outline (spec)
• Create PowerPoint slide decks with text and graphics
• Develop and test hands-on labs
  

Primary Responsibilities:

• Design, develop, and author appropriate training and educational course materials
• Research technical documents and user manuals to leverage training content
• Create PowerPoint slide presentations for instructor-led training
• Install, configure, and test operating systems and business applications
• Carefully document lab steps to meet learning requirements
• Use courseware development tools to create content.

Fifteen Seconds of Fame on Grammar Girl

I’ve recently become addicted to podcasts – subscribed multimedia files streamed from the web. A particular cast has grabbed and held my attention. Grammar Girl is both fun and educational; especially for someone with a left-brain word fetish such as me. Grammar Girl’s podcasts add many more obsessions for my inner-grammarian to obsess over.

Alas, I am not alone. Thinking that I was the only one who lost sleep over the affect vs. effect problem, I called in for Grammar Girls help. She published my call on her site and answered my question. I can finally sleep now.

She also commissioned a cartoon to illustrate the mnemonic that I asked for; way to go Grammar Girl. Although she misspelled my name, I think I’m in love.

Cartoon Courtesy of Grammar Girl at http://www.cafepress.com/grammargirl

Sign Posted in Coffee Shop...

Children left unattended will be given espresso and a free puppy.