tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88637082117489253052024-03-12T16:28:09.473-07:00Canceled Checkblah, blah, blog.Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-9655742768781631322009-04-15T23:21:00.000-07:002009-04-16T00:53:07.785-07:00Family, Revisited<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEQF0c9UwmLG6_3UHvlRF4noI0yq6V2VRbPCUQnIrqvhWQIb99DjrLGoH8NiIorw8HrLQ4BSPlYWxp5C9iBGE1mVdgLRYLLhuObYmt3gbHcCgQcCIEp-QFrYYPKQ_t5W5Thj4oe2U3fFt-/s1600-h/seed2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEQF0c9UwmLG6_3UHvlRF4noI0yq6V2VRbPCUQnIrqvhWQIb99DjrLGoH8NiIorw8HrLQ4BSPlYWxp5C9iBGE1mVdgLRYLLhuObYmt3gbHcCgQcCIEp-QFrYYPKQ_t5W5Thj4oe2U3fFt-/s320/seed2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325172834141591378" /></a><br />Baby #2 is officially on the way - due early 12/09.<div>Excitement abounds = yes.</div><div>A full year of "resets" pending = yes.</div><div><br /></div><div>yes</div><div>yes</div><div>yes... yes... yes</div><div><br /></div><div>True love travels on a gravel road...<br /></div><div> </div><div>XO - CC</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-34817469184658193352009-03-15T00:41:00.000-07:002009-03-15T00:58:23.843-07:00A Letter to "Life"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHMz-uKOsPVT38W9Dxfh3ENDRbKOGQe7Em9s6DYgjbLVFa4NjkUmwuynqh0EcpB9s4JMn6xamymsioAQzT399O_b5Lq1oPzT1QlftZEtCM79UvihEob6uYATZ8TkAi9O-40LoShQklyCck/s1600-h/DSC_0020.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHMz-uKOsPVT38W9Dxfh3ENDRbKOGQe7Em9s6DYgjbLVFa4NjkUmwuynqh0EcpB9s4JMn6xamymsioAQzT399O_b5Lq1oPzT1QlftZEtCM79UvihEob6uYATZ8TkAi9O-40LoShQklyCck/s320/DSC_0020.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313319866631782466" /></a><br /><div>Hi Life - </div><div><br /></div><div>What's up? It would seem that with all the uncertainty floating around that everyone is simply *watching and waiting*. </div><div><br /></div><div>Life... you maniac! You are funny like that. People (historically) hate to wait - but they do like to watch. So watch this...</div><div><br /></div><div>1. I would much rather rock out in the living room with my son than worry about the finer points of things totally out of my control. I own those guitars and if we need to leave California because of economics or natural disaster, they're coming with us :)</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Reality shows are giving your name a bad name because I don't think they are what you are all about. That being said, what do I know? It's your life, life.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. The doors that you operate are constantly opening and closing - I'm not saying I'm going to force anything that isn't ready, but I am paying attention to what is going on and if you let your guard down, I am going to chair lock you in a room and call my friends and have a large party at your expense.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. I know you have a happy ending with my name on it (and I don't mean at a massage parlour). I will wait for my turn.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. I eat your cereal all the time, but not the cinnamon-flavored one. Good thing you don't have peanut butter as one of your ingredients. Do you know anything about how I can get some of this stimulus package action? Sorry... I digress.</div><div><br /></div><div>Take care -</div><div><br /></div><div>Canceled Check</div>Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-61070535539084476202009-02-23T19:30:00.000-08:002009-02-24T06:14:49.763-08:00Where do spiders live?Elliott has a love/hate relationship with spiders. He loves to find them and discover where they live, but isn't so sure he wants to have anything else to do with them once he locates them. I can't blame him - the spiders that inhabit our yard certainly aren't perfectionists in the "web spinning" department. Our spider webs are all about function and not form. They are matted down, dirty, full of empty egg sacks, the whole bit. You get the picture.<br /><br />Elliott has made it pretty clear that any light cover or object in the yard that has been sitting for any period of time has been subject (and is probably inhabited by) SPIDERS! The Airstream has a set of decorative lights that drop from the side to a stake in the ground. Each of the lights has a small metal cover that reveals extensive traces of (you guessed it)...SPIDERS!<br /><br />As such, there has been some quality time hanging out in the backyard, turning over each light and checking out the the habitats of our 8-legged guests. Enough time was spent that I became convinced that Elliott could readily identify the location of any and all spiders that crossed his path.<br /><br />This being the case, I was somewhat caught off guard when Elliott stopped me last week, pointed a finger towards one of my nostrils, and said with conviction... SPIDERS!!! I guess it's time to bust out the nose hair trimmer.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6kcw6_7sQWCUwRWrnt7Sg4uKcEDWVFNDHbEd-vks-TPimAvzlOlMbyTWtNvPIQv5zgqiqQEHUIRf-DbEG0t_c9SUXZtLiukJ4GEjL_7cDR-m5m_sMQ42c85_N2JxbAdq-UKurW6mDJMI/s1600-h/nostrils.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306198008247049570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6kcw6_7sQWCUwRWrnt7Sg4uKcEDWVFNDHbEd-vks-TPimAvzlOlMbyTWtNvPIQv5zgqiqQEHUIRf-DbEG0t_c9SUXZtLiukJ4GEjL_7cDR-m5m_sMQ42c85_N2JxbAdq-UKurW6mDJMI/s320/nostrils.bmp" border="0" /></a>Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-52783183008376137002009-02-04T21:20:00.000-08:002009-02-05T12:54:16.768-08:00Addressing the Gap / A Historical RecordFollowing the birth of Elliott, life as I knew it morphed into a space that was equal parts exciting and "oh no"... To be clear, I am incredibly selfish with my free time and very protective of what I deem to be my "artistic streak". I can't apologize for this - even my Mom told me I was selfish about my free time as a little kid...she was right. I want to be able to disappear when I feel like it to chase this muse - for better or for worse, with or without tangible results. Since I have no control over when it comes and goes, it makes it very difficult to plan for. Adding a wife (let alone a child) short-sheeted my proverbial bed. I felt like a part of me was headed for cruel and unusual punishment. As such, I tried my best to just work the system as much as possible to wiggle out some breathing room. The results (while inducing initial frustration) turned out to be a redirection of sorts. As soon as I let go of the fact that I simply couldn't leave the house at bath time, I became present again. While we have taken a bajillion pictures of our son, his exposure to and appreciation of music has been priceless. The following material is the loose link between my return to work in late July of 2007 (following Elliott's birth) and now.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Elliott & the Thanksgiving Song</span><br />Shot on Thanksgiving morning 2007, this was classic Elliott at the time - simply sitting still and hanging out at 5 months old. While there has been pressure to recreate/re-produce this song, I think this version is the gold standard.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fLMboQz8hTM&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fLMboQz8hTM&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Elliott & The Checkbox</span><br />This was a Christmas present for Mommy in 2007. Elliott was in the studio sleeping in his bouncy chair for the entire recording. I liked the whole montage idea to get his first few months organized. I would love to shoot more video, but I just don't feel present looking at things from behind a camera. I don't think the song has been played since.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/i9ve5lSHkEE&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/i9ve5lSHkEE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Elliott vs. The Vinyl</span><br />Shot in mid-2008 by my wife, this was obviously done without my permission. My guess is that he's looking for something to play, but I'm not sure what. My favorite part is about halfway through when he looks directly at the camera with a cold stare and continues on without remorse. It reminds me of that footage of Bigfoot where there is that split second he/she looks at the camera and continues moving through the tundra. The bottom shelf was sealed off with a bungy cord shortly thereafter - another fruitless pursuit that has only delayed the inevitable since bungy cords are also easily removable when there's a "will" and a "way". I'm sure there will be casualties to follow - but they're his records anyway now... right?<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8RMlHAZd2NI&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8RMlHAZd2NI&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Elliott & Paradise Ci</span>ty<br />A tribute to my air guitar / air drum roots, this was shot coming back from Old Town on a sunny San Diego day in September 2008. I especially like the "mouthing of the words" and the fact that he picks his feet up when the song escalates.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/At2BlgkfC5U&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/At2BlgkfC5U&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-4945720068120944122009-02-03T09:02:00.000-08:002009-02-04T09:18:26.089-08:00A Letter to Motley CrueDear Nikki, Vince, Mick, and Tommy -<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTiv86vo7DfjvwitB3eVSl55NwGH2Y6xfk451HIkycFkvaTa3zC3AVSZFMrzXimpMR4i0VrHPUU2Olmi0Vim0bQvW4zdQK7ST7IyXvRp09vKB85oYFhgyac9BZ0ct0XA61j2WN36imPbk/s1600-h/motley+crue_crue+fest.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 237px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTiv86vo7DfjvwitB3eVSl55NwGH2Y6xfk451HIkycFkvaTa3zC3AVSZFMrzXimpMR4i0VrHPUU2Olmi0Vim0bQvW4zdQK7ST7IyXvRp09vKB85oYFhgyac9BZ0ct0XA61j2WN36imPbk/s320/motley+crue_crue+fest.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298794423106363634" /></a>I just wanted to drop you a line and offer some feedback based on the opening night of your "Saints of Los Angeles" tour in San Diego. Let me begin with a little history... "Too Fast for Love" came out when I was 12 years old. As a 12-year old white kid growing up in a suburb of Los Angeles, I found myself riding my tricked out Schwinn Hornet up to the local music store (Music +) to kill time. I loved looking at the record covers, reading the sleeves, and trying to work out how much I needed to save up to come home with a new piece of vinyl.<br /><br />Prior to "Too Fast for Love", Billy Squier "Don't Say No", Rush "Moving Pictures" and the 45 for Queen "We are the Champions" were monopolizing the all-in-one turntable I had. I remember thinking you guys looked insanely cool on the back of the album and that the music must sound great as a result. Makeup, spiky hair, skulls, weird-shaped guitars, AWESOME!!! I wasn't disappointed when I got home either - I was right... and it felt good.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIARw5uQ9jGHhq_mbeD-L1yk5Q15_gbR1cH89Nkq0cGInpnMNDrqX22wtPNAsOBTN7nqdKAcozDzUK_jHnVP2FfacruOz7xD4IX0ZkqYcsoS5E2XPt43LuPPmYJ1x6dGGWllCS0AK0gOh/s1600-h/US+Festival.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 301px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIARw5uQ9jGHhq_mbeD-L1yk5Q15_gbR1cH89Nkq0cGInpnMNDrqX22wtPNAsOBTN7nqdKAcozDzUK_jHnVP2FfacruOz7xD4IX0ZkqYcsoS5E2XPt43LuPPmYJ1x6dGGWllCS0AK0gOh/s320/US+Festival.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298795732477605474" /></a><br /><div>The US Festival in 1983 sealed the deal. On Sunday, May 29th 1983 you guys followed up Quiet Riot and were on your game. Followed by Ozzy Ozbourne, Judas Priest, Triumph, The Scorpions, and Van Halen - it was clear that you were destined for big things in the rock world. AWESOME!<br /><br /></div><div>The love affair continued with "Shout at the Devil". I remember staying up countless nights waiting for "Looks That Kill" to come onto MTV. I remember staying at my aunt's house and making her stay up so that I could show her how crazy Tommy's drum playing was - it was unlike anything I had seen previously. I didn't necessarily get the whole pentagram thing, and that part where you herd all of the muddy women into a corral seemed a bit strange, but fire and skulls were still cool and you guys rocked. I wore the tape out on my Walkman. AWESOME!<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Well, it's 2009 now and there have been *25* years and *7* full studio albums since "Shout at the Devil". I may have had one of them on cassette and that "Home Sweet Home" video was pretty cool, but the train had officially jumped the track. I know it's important to be relevant - it's just a shame that it had to come from VH1 specials about snorting ants, drinking urine, grainy boating videos, and stealing clothes from homeless people. Nikki - I know you get it too. You speak fondly of your first two records and refer to the last 25 years as the "new stuff". I'd look for a way out and hide behind stories too if my name was in the liner notes for "Generation Swine". </div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4ARpIfQjffoTwLudCKJ_RuJ0AipFkgi1Cnv2Fak3fR84I21H4EnyGrd2AU98Q9bQ-Y-hZ21nCBHZrHHMCCDI7Agx1Vy83LtIEhMywF1qSYiUidKrbs9wVkIGS620NIKp36yHOcX_m8vA/s1600-h/Photo_020209_002.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4ARpIfQjffoTwLudCKJ_RuJ0AipFkgi1Cnv2Fak3fR84I21H4EnyGrd2AU98Q9bQ-Y-hZ21nCBHZrHHMCCDI7Agx1Vy83LtIEhMywF1qSYiUidKrbs9wVkIGS620NIKp36yHOcX_m8vA/s320/Photo_020209_002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298806236435484226" /></a>I get it - you are rock stars and you will do whatever you choose. Maybe I'm just jealous. Your legacy *is what it is* and I spent $35 to see what has become of you last night - the joke is on me for keeping your dream alive. Your upcoming movie based on "The Dirt" will simply seal the fact that you were a decent band that has spent the last 25 years milking the system with crap. I'm going to go see that too and then I'm done... unless you re-master "Too Fast For Love" and re-release it with a record sleeve made out of dirty owl bones and cigarette butts. Then I'm really done.</div><div><br /></div><div>You should be too. </div><div><br /></div><div>Love, </div><div><br /></div><div>Canceled Check</div><div><br /></div>Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-38509045474324713012009-01-31T23:59:00.000-08:002009-02-01T12:03:19.652-08:00and so it begins...i can't think of a time in my life when there was more transition. the transition from infant to toddler that is my son elliott, the weight of being a small business owner in this economy and having to affect the lives of others based on strictly "financial" decisions, the wash of art/music/disappearing act that is limited by time and ability to be present, the stress of producing another child with all the factors that surround, and the genuine work that is required to keep marriage & family healthy under the aforementioned circumstances.<br /><br />i need to make it completely clear that this is in no way, shape, or form a series of *bad* things. in fact, i couldn't embrace the situation more.<br /><br />for the first time in a long time, i feel alive again. i am done sitting on the sidelines - watching and waiting for the next thing to happen. i feel that i have reached a new plateau of understanding with my wife and am ready to realign the dormant vertebrae in my life with the rest of the backbone.<br /><br />i have been blogging since 2007, but only as a passerby. while i have no predisposed idea of what this may become, i am done ignoring what it could be.<br /><br />here's to the fractured, crazy world we live in and the commentary we create as human beings.Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-51490652762380607342008-10-17T19:51:00.000-07:002008-10-17T19:57:41.270-07:00i am a phoenix.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbBwmZQKl-tAyLagVDz7RgCkrNbBJbqS4dmwA2DRrezUjL3BrX7ccIHcyIUQpYgoZwctJZAu3MQRAsKdvWVFxlsQX2fcsvH3bzoHMSPospJWbGuNzAMLaeQ3D36c83_Yy1kO5k2vzZ_BQK/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258322540954207842" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbBwmZQKl-tAyLagVDz7RgCkrNbBJbqS4dmwA2DRrezUjL3BrX7ccIHcyIUQpYgoZwctJZAu3MQRAsKdvWVFxlsQX2fcsvH3bzoHMSPospJWbGuNzAMLaeQ3D36c83_Yy1kO5k2vzZ_BQK/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div>and these are my ashes. i will not be kept down. i am growing in spite of myself. i will make you proud.</div>Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-14205286304876888362007-07-23T19:38:00.000-07:002007-07-23T20:11:53.901-07:00The Travels of Snik Snak<span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Alas - my first three dedicated weeks with Elliott have come to a close and I am heading back to work on a modified schedule. I look back on the last three weeks with great fondness as my wife and I continue to push the envelope of lost sleep, random adventures, and working out our new routine. Elliott continues to pick up nicknames - the latest being "Snik Snak" after a reference to a children's song on the Ida "You Are My Flower" recording (not to be confused with the Afghan Whigs "You My Flower")... :) </span><br /><br />To document the first few weeks of outside adventures - I am noting them here as they will quickly be forgotten with new information, nicknames, and random facts linked to the life force that now runs Casa de Ivy. They are (in no particular order):<br /><br />* Costco for lunchtime hot dogs, diapers and water - we blew the changing table out in the men's room and had to make a quick escape.<br />* Albertson's in East Village, Vons in North Park, Whole Foods in Hillcrest, Gala Foods in South Park - all linked to food /diaper trips and to reduce cabin fever.<br />* Sansei Sushi - our first "lunch" outing during rush hour<br />* Tioli's Crazy Burger - our second lunch outing<br />* The Golden Spoon for frozen yogurt<br />* Paradise Frozen Yogurt for an evening fix<br />* Thrifty for Double Chocolate Malted Crunch scoops<br />* The South Park July 21st "Walkbout"<br />* Happy Hour at Mike and Music's house for beers<br />* The Potenza's Empanada Party - Mom's first post-partem buzz :)<br />* Babies R US - we jumped the gun on your Halloween outfit<br />* Target - additional supplies and baby accessories we never knew we needed, but had gift certificates for...<br />* Multiple trips in the sling and the Peg on the "Burlingame Loop"<br />* Do IT Smarter and Pro Lender visits<br />* La China with the "girls" and Dad<br /><br />I think that's about it - so far, so good. No major blowouts, no dirty looks... Just a lot of positive experiences and good times... What will the future hold???Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-39972545028284024032007-07-16T07:23:00.000-07:002007-07-16T07:43:54.600-07:00Nature Sound Anthology<span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Animals vocalize for any number of reasons. They express and communicate joy, anger, fear, hunger and just about anything else you would expect from the regular human spectrum of emotions. Monitoring any specific species over time you can begin to see communication patterns that come in the form of clicks, chirps, growls, purrs, etc. </span><div><div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">It turns out that Zombs is no different in his communication stylings. The difference here is that Zombs is differentiating himself by borrowing sounds from the "porpoise" and "chipmunk" spectrum to create his own "voice". The mix is a startling representation of what you would hear from these very different creatures in the wild. It is our belief that Zombs is possibly some sort of shapeshifter that is simply disguising his voice to throw off the dog and cat until a safe balance is found (and he can hold his head up without assistance). Only time will tell. </span></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6wJGPAC0LxDTjQwUZrBAuN6x3fh9uTwe64YbQZx3B01HvcNMccElIl6nBGO7XnJ1jDnSIgmjXFMah0Ho6IRVp1dN_WrCmdR_wk-mdfiz0kCo2NMqz9_aD6VQpTpFEe9xN9YVHDgaJR2kv/s1600-h/chipmunk.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087804534310499698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="173" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6wJGPAC0LxDTjQwUZrBAuN6x3fh9uTwe64YbQZx3B01HvcNMccElIl6nBGO7XnJ1jDnSIgmjXFMah0Ho6IRVp1dN_WrCmdR_wk-mdfiz0kCo2NMqz9_aD6VQpTpFEe9xN9YVHDgaJR2kv/s320/chipmunk.jpg" width="174" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHTfU3SP24Y4bTl1VlyyBi8mWfDiH7hFg8ZKlfE0_gN38n6M06DytKUJ-oFJ-2ixMGSOi8Squ1xp4n01lNFXMZ3MHbP4FSvbaKwdszsTB8nNf7RzJDZD2Is4-WokmYZzRPJTJROGmY_ya3/s1600-h/porpoise.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087804920857556370" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 185px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 176px" height="181" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHTfU3SP24Y4bTl1VlyyBi8mWfDiH7hFg8ZKlfE0_gN38n6M06DytKUJ-oFJ-2ixMGSOi8Squ1xp4n01lNFXMZ3MHbP4FSvbaKwdszsTB8nNf7RzJDZD2Is4-WokmYZzRPJTJROGmY_ya3/s320/porpoise.jpg" width="196" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087804667454485890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 211px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 175px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="188" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsV92P03bbdnjNBAURtlAi4kUeb0QD5wxoYphpwdd9Hb4F-ZDZMM-36o4EmOQ4DyWulePXbJIH6YOSZiH09OCnHh1gi1K_9nEgawrSzJFGD9oFhkYPcRgdmrIFXLrPiP5vwx6zWqFXLQI1/s320/e-zombs.jpg" width="236" border="0" /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-34349568384053703432007-07-14T07:32:00.000-07:002007-07-14T13:32:56.760-07:00The Milk Zombie<div>Elliott is now 13 days old. Based on his coma-like state following a "cluster feed" he is now known as the "Milk Zombie" (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Zombs</span> for short). <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Zombs</span> can be seen here following a bout with the boob. Though the boob always claims victory, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Zombs</span> continues his pursuit day in and day out. </div><div> </div><div><div><div><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZL1wZbIZj-moPoCSd_Uoi8ZT_BqYB4OVTPejLfqMkf7T6qmKPEub0_K_hvilI19FEbirYLqFCMw6ZmOGTVSBen4fzG5Zuh0f_3FMeWirNaI59firpEIWAU6Qe-U0eBNuCgslBRTUFY5ZH/s1600-h/images.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087067311764075842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZL1wZbIZj-moPoCSd_Uoi8ZT_BqYB4OVTPejLfqMkf7T6qmKPEub0_K_hvilI19FEbirYLqFCMw6ZmOGTVSBen4fzG5Zuh0f_3FMeWirNaI59firpEIWAU6Qe-U0eBNuCgslBRTUFY5ZH/s320/images.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFdrGx9eZX9mcfCz4oPBOnDHl79UeSkFGbR2EsHKJdkjhDhnV9uxYlqnRfLwzFOj_KdAm4OcdpRiEds911qWK_46q5URkfG1ROlq31HFYKlXjvTXVPifpcAN8vNYC-4XvcLW0pP4Y9jNcU/s1600-h/images.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087067569462113618" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFdrGx9eZX9mcfCz4oPBOnDHl79UeSkFGbR2EsHKJdkjhDhnV9uxYlqnRfLwzFOj_KdAm4OcdpRiEds911qWK_46q5URkfG1ROlq31HFYKlXjvTXVPifpcAN8vNYC-4XvcLW0pP4Y9jNcU/s320/images.jpg" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087152871807579490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvsjntCTQxp6eXTvdv804UVRAL4sDB_qdpu57Lcy1NCOU8JryliAyFzr8eCjB2ieF9XG_Do12H1wufDXFgu3IK87YTAMPh0CIltPAU628AGPkGTjGEzS5Gg1rEJuVX1HM6dy82COVgey-m/s320/images.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087066512900158754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPM3KlF39yj6I0ht2DJ2F7sCIgwfl9ebcfttk5vKd8F0PFJJXHQ0qJ_PnPhgwCbXb8t09olDZqn4i-hlQpVRU77kmzT4jLfuzQHhOvZb4M42Nv2Se8xolF4on92N9TamuIAGbYqh51pAoG/s320/IMG_0076.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Zombs</span> cannot be stopped... he is relentless in his desires. His milk-thirsty ways are all consuming. Mom and Dad must simply get out of the way or be engulfed by the desires of the Milk Zombie. </div></div></div></div>Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-68266819377567163312007-07-12T16:10:00.000-07:002007-07-14T07:29:13.213-07:00The last of the last...<div>It took me a while to realize that keeping anything from friends or loved ones is bad. In fact, it makes the scenario worse than the original action. Simply put, non-disclosure makes the event a "secret" - which in turn elevates the significance.<br /><br />I had/have some bad habits and still do have issues with control on occasion. With this in mind, I have always been comfortable accepting blame and hold myself accountable for all my actions.</div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087056673130083570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqmdUQpIYljxZQmPUv2VkvbSjVldkJ1JxFenb7RIsvppWnANaJTrg50dch2vE9TI52wJXwEe1OikZtriw-GTNPY334dUFvrlJboioJZr41uOySuFNmUe3C8VXCwa3Um_xF2yI2VKjomjAG/s320/notnow.gif" border="0" /><br />As timing would have it, a three year old event has surfaced to create quite a rift. This comes at a time in my life when i should simply be celebrating with my wife and newborn son. At the time of its occurrence, the issue was simply not discussed or brought up when it should have been. The end result was to "not worry about it" for its "lack of significance and meaning". I do firmly believe that the event had no meaning and was simply a drunken moment of which I could draw similar parallels that were rift-free, but that's not the point. While I wasn't entirely comfortable with this outcome, I'm sure I agreed at the time as I hadn't learned the true power of non-disclosure yet and assumed (based on the situation) that the decision was best for all involved.<br /><br />The event in question was benign enough (although this could easily be argued), but left to rot with time it has gained much more traction and weight. The damage potential for those closest to me is still in process and is incredibly raw all the way around.<br /><br />I can see how it crosses lines of trust, loyalty, and commitment. I can see how it could be viewed as a simple one-off that wasn't meant to harm and had no additional significance. I can see how it is seen as selfish. I can see how it has fractured my relationships. I can see everything now, but I am wearing a different lens.<br /><br />While there is much work to be done I have come away with a new appreciation for my wife and my relationship to her. The recounting of details has made me realize that it is simply wrong to put anything else (or anyone else's feelings) before hers. I have always assumed that my wife has a large amount of strength. This strength comes through in support, rationalization of circumstances, and the ability to work through situations in an admirable, positive way. That being said, I can not assume that she is not affected by the details of my life - regardless of how far back they occurred.<br /><br />She asked me "what else do i have to confess?". I can honestly say that through the last 4+ years I have learned a great deal about myself, what my limits are, what I should be, and who I am becoming. I trust my wife implicitly and can see that through my legacy actions and learnings that I am riding the "trust" fence. I can only hope that a mixture of time and patience with me proves *this* to be the last of the last.Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-86398079542041801922007-07-05T05:29:00.000-07:002007-07-14T13:25:45.464-07:00IntangibilityOverview: Elliott <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Marr</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Wieler</span> arrived on July 1st at 5:54pm - weighing in at 8.1lbs and measuring 21.6in. He is very healthy, happy, and alert. Mom and Dad are proud parents!<br /><div><br /><div><div></div><div>Detail: The 36 hours leading to his actual arrival were a mix of excitement, fear, exhaustion, and a small list of intangibles that I am still mulling over. As there are two sides to every story, you can read my wife's blog <a href="http://darwinsgirl.blogspot.com/">here</a>. That being said, I felt very locked in with my wife during this process and felt that the decisions that were made (as they were presented to us) were very much a team effort. You hear of the stereotypical scenario with the wife screaming profanities at the husband and moving on without his buy-in. That was not my wife. She was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">amazingly</span> rational and so tuned to her own body that those around her (and there were many) were simply extraneous noise. She was very responsive to me and I felt honored to be participating with such a strong woman in this process. It became apparent to me that she was at another level altogether when the midwife would ask questions and have to repeat them multiple times to get a response. </div><div></div><br /><div>The process itself was long and involved - although I must say that the path that was followed was very logical and comfortable when all was said and done...for this I am thankful. For me, the process began at 4:29:50pm - the moment that the contractions warranted me getting a pen and paper to write the times and spacing. I kept the times (duration of contractions and spacing between) on my Casio G-Shock watch while I made my last push to debrief customers on my soon to be disappearing act and turn on my Out of Office Assistant. The process took an amazing "do you believe me now?" at 5:06:10pm when my wife lost about a gallon of amniotic fluid on the hardwood floor while calling the midwife to determine whether we should start to head to the birth center. This was one of the craziest things I have ever seen and my response was to stare in disbelief and laugh with my wife at the event in progress. Laughter in this case was certainly one of those moments where things aren't *funny* in the classic sense - but it acts as a mechanism to assist in coping with intangibles. The intangible feelings had begun. I froze for about 30 seconds and then spent another minute or so looking for the camera in places like the refrigerator, in the chimney, etc. This made it apparent to me that I had officially crossed the sensory overload line. </div><div></div><br /><div>We loaded up the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Montero</span> with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">pre</span>-determined items and headed to the UCSD Medical Center. We met up with Marissa (our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Doula</span>) just after 6:00pm and began the process in room 207 (Labor & Delivery) - as there were some scheduling issues in the Birthing Center that were preventing us from getting our room. The next four hours were simply a matter of getting used to the fact that *yes - we are at the hospital* and assimilating all the sights, smells, and sounds associated with the room. My wife started <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">working</span> through some positions with Marissa to get comfortable and I put on "Norah Jones - Come Away with Me" and tried to organize the snacks (super helpful!). We met with Jasmine (the midwife on duty) and determined that we could get into our room at the Birthing Center (room 427) by 10:00pm or so. </div><div></div><br /><div>Room 427 was a night and day difference over the rooms in Labor & Delivery. The intent is to have the space feel organic and much less clinical - and to that end the room was perfect- nice <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">mahogany</span> furniture, paintings on the walls, nice lighting, etc.. We got situated and it became clear that the contractions were really starting to take effect. My wife would drop into these low <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">guttural</span> sounds where she would disappear within herself and get centered. It was pretty amazing to watch. We spent the next 7 hours attempting different positions to maximize the effect of the contractions, while keeping relaxed at the same time. My wife never lost it during the process, but she did have a certain look of "wishing for the next stage" - a mix of patience, pain management, and fear of the unknown. The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">picture</span> in my mind is captured perfectly here as she waits on the birthing ball at 3:07am for the next contraction to happen...</div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083715537068204018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCu2C0AIHlSHvTN5QPdx3EkWpebamUoCI8UXZQfmI55qVUdwEgY5EKxeiXbTNBO0Enu9XmdJrl-w7VX8CFFRKVkzCo5q1bKfvhVFhGTsr24Im1wgLuTqMvlqC9YE-yNQRF61uHNYuN0Bod/s320/IMG_0036.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div><p>Just after 4:00am, Jasmine came in to check on the progress of my wife's cervical dilation. We had some reservations on whether this would be beneficial news as a low number would indicate that we still had a ways to go after being at this for over 12 hours. We chose to know the answer which turned up to be a slightly disappointing 6 out of 10. This indicated that we were just over halfway there - good news / bad news depending on your take at 4:00 in the morning. That being said, Elyse pushed on and took to walking the halls with Marissa to get the contractions <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">jump started</span>. I took a 1 hour catnap to regroup and stay positive.</p><p><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Rebecca</span> took over for Jasmine around 8:00am and checked on my wife's cervical progress again. We were closer to an 8 out of 10 and were definitely making progress. During the exam, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Rebecca</span> noticed that Elliott's head was slightly turned and made a note - nothing to be of concern yet, simply another factor in the process. My wife continued to push and drive forward.</p><p>We continued to walk the halls together - my wife pausing every few minutes to lean on me and have a contraction. My parents arrived on the scene and were completely understanding when asked to wait in the lobby so that my wife could continue to focus on the task at hand.</p><p>By 11:30am, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Rebecca</span> noted my wife as "completely dilated" and gave the go ahead to begin pushing. This process was equally intense as she rode the contractions down and locked into pushing the little one out. After 2 hours of pushing, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Rebecca</span> noted that Elliott's head was making little progress, and that it was still angled with him looking down and to the left instead of straight forward. To continue in this manner, something was going to have to change. A combination of science, physical ability, and "sheer will" factors all began to converge as <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Rebecca</span> indicated that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Pitocin</span> may be required to keep the contractions going. If we were to continue, we would have to accept the fact that an IV, Epidural, and additional medical intervention would be required. If we were unable to keep pushing and/or additional medical factors came in to play, we would need to consider a Cesarean section. While this wasn't the perfect scenario, we were open to having the path unfold as it should. </p><p>The nursing team took the blood work required to get the Epidural going and hooked my wife up to an IV to begin a basic fluid drip. We were back Labor & Delivery by 3:30pm- oddly enough, ending up in room 207 - and began the Epidural process. The blood work returned the fact that my wife was beginning to develop a high white blood cell count. The initial thought was that an infection could be in progress based on how long she had been in labor since her water broke. Our decision as to which route we were going to take was needing to be made quickly.</p><p>With Linda (the midwife coordinator) leading the charge we assembled all of the medical practitioners that had been involved up to this point to review what should be done. Never before have I had to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">assimilate</span> so much important information, get a read from my wife, and make a decision based on the well being of all involved. All of the options were complicated by additional factors and uncertainty:</p><p>1) <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Pitocin</span> would kick up the contractions and could have the effect of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">straightening</span> the baby's head, *but* he may not straighten and the Doctor's were unwilling to manipulate him with forceps based on his size. </p><p>2) We could continue to push, but the Doctors would only give my wife 30 minutes of "push time" based on increasing white blood cell count. They were concerned that based on the baby's size that pushing may get him stuck - requiring additional surgical <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">intervention</span> and cervical damage.</p><p>3) The "C" word (Cesarean in this case)... lots of potential <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">complications</span> from surgery, extended recovery for my wife, but *hopefully* an unharmed, healthy baby.</p><p>Wanting to protect my wife and my unborn child, it made the most sense to move forward with a C-section. The process had run it's course and had lead us to a completely different path, but a logical one nonetheless. My wife and I agreed and we continued down the "spiral of intervention". I am happy to look back at this picture (after almost 24 hours of my wife laboring at the hospital) with our sense of humor intact.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085323465449644050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUB1r7TaULPCx5AqzjLXkXfv8emwHiDLeBoXQQAQaZesivqD8-A9qUPR-eVfXzCwVOb66ekqFcBCamPwehtpEpHjHd9Af0ZQ6brzQjhwalhKg_zGUaUwLo_brJnMEALGco_JG7iqjinDQ7/s320/IMG_0042.jpg" border="0" /> 30 minutes later I was in a room filled with other "blue" people (about 15 total) and lots of brights lights and flashing machines. I was asked to sit with the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">anesthesiologist</span> at the head of the operating table - next to my wife's head, but behind the sheet that separates the patient from the surgery. It was certainly a lot of information to ingest - with my wife hooked up to lots of instruments and many, many people working on her with lots of different objects and tools being passed around, lots of smells, and lots of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">electronic</span> monitors and metrics being collected in my ears and eyes. I was doing my best to maintain composure and to attempt small talk with my wife when the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">anesthesiologist</span> dropped one of of the empty drip bags from above the sterile curtain. I watched it slide down, landing somewhere on my wife. A few incredibly long seconds passed (as the anesthesiologist didn't see the mistake) before the primary surgeon simply stating "What's this doing here?!?". The anesthesiologist, realizing he was missing something sheepishly looked over the curtain and fessed up. The primary surgeon clamped the bag, moved it off my wife and dropped it on the ground. Too many variables in this room as my mind raced through "What if" statements...<br /><p>A few more minutes passed before I was tapped on the shoulder by the nurse. She asked simply enough "Your baby is getting ready to come out. Do you want to take a picture?" I was initially advised by the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">doula</span> that looking over the curtain can indelibly scar even those who think they have no fear of blood, body parts, and the like. Based on the closeness of the delivery, it seemed like most of the scary work would be completed and I would simply see the fruits of the surgery. I grasped my camera, slid off my stool, looked over the curtain, and was face-to-face with my wife's navel - now running almost perpendicular to where it normally resides. I saw at least two gloved arms almost elbow deep fishing around in my wife's innards for my little one. Again... too much information. Better to sit and wait until the results are complete and without question.</p><p>A minute later something resembling a human body was placed on the table beside me where the Pediatric team of 4 awaited his arrival for initial inspection. Without attempting to sound callous or funny in any way shape or form, he simply looked like a mini-cadaver - devoid of color, life, and the normal motion that I had associated in my head with a birth. I was expecting a red little screaming bundle - all curled up and screaming furiously. Instead my first image was this...</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083715970859900930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhClijpUCbqMW5SJmYGpFelqmXk3fS6HfLSGTUqaKxe3YPWTHnju_RwjnWnIZQzf7fsPilLNqlD0yPXeTx_TKwCFf31G-8yO_Dkng0XrFWbMz1F4gsGKlYlp8aIhY860giCHfyBrlyYtO44/s320/IMG_0043.jpg" border="0" /> Not curled up, eyes open but "checked out", no screaming... something seemed wrong. I felt detached and quickly unsure of what was going on. With the Pediatric team poking, prodding and checking for vitals he began to light up. The vocal cords arrived, arms and legs began moving, and the color of a newborn began to filter through. This was my son! I turned to share a moment with my wife who was visibly shaking from the drugs being administered. Her hands were trembling and she was looking exhausted. The idea of who to comfort and what to do is just something that you can't plan for. It made the most sense at that point to trust that the surgical team is sealing up my wife correctly and get the baby into our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">possession</span> as soon as possible.<br /><p>That being said, I fumbled through cutting the cord, got him wrapped up and held him at different angles so that my wife could have some visibility through the tubes and covers. I know that this wasn't what we planned for... so this moment (ultimately missing out on the skin-to-skin contact out of the womb between son and Mommy) was the only thing I wished could be different. I do understand that with a C-section process that this just isn't feasible. We made the best out of the circumstances. </p><p>Within 15 minutes, the surgery was completed we were heading to recovery. Elliott was removed from my arms and transferred to my wife to begin the wonderful bond that is the two of them.<br /></p><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085335319559381026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid7EgWJMUlB3Ed7nqprMz0FrnbqDzSbEfw1YZgDOaDIC2URvm1tGcni1QJ1dvLQwOoBTro3fwIQ9rpLFuq_CJHTK6hNlOBIPtnejjklCiBGwNYjjuH1aalQDlmbBQLlRp6iXCy5Jwf64St/s320/E&e.jpg" border="0" /> <p>From here the true journey begins... for all of these things I am thankful. I love my new little family and look forward to a completely modified existence. </p>Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-90461586669455083292007-03-29T19:30:00.000-07:002007-07-14T07:16:30.121-07:00I am my father's son...<div>In three months I will be a father. A father to Elliott Marr Wieler - the "working" name of the little mystery that is to be. I will say that grasping the full concept of the situation is easier said than done. I have found myself immersed in scheduling details, information, and all things *future*. A future that brings great promise, openings, and closure all at the same time...<br /><br />It is a necessity that such things are planned for and that details are reviewed in advance - but it is much more dificult than I ever expected to remain *present*. I have found myself reflecting on my father and his relationship to me. I understand our similarities and appreciate the lessons that I have learned from him. My father shows his apprecation and love in a filtered way that is equal parts "how he was raised" as well as the "time at which he was raised". He grew up in the shadow of WWII - with his own father being shot down in a fighter plane over a faraway ocean before he ever met his son. I'm sure that changed everything...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbgfv4rpn7CGxPh_YJLwnknSx-AFo5-GVpqtSHXjTFxy9B0aYWdbZGlaE4qar-aN5RjxY8ZebsDrjZI4NOqwO5UVRCNQtxGPLUqGN5_6oR3Qy6F9VuI7bsG5Q_yVwSVVmGaTbzAe0ZVGLC/s1600-h/marr.bmp"></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087056041769891026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Bl7g8M3OKatQSOU3YwAeAANHdoYEdYbL_WkG7ztliolmqIgM0bERaLgaK961E8nB0nq7HASz3S9xoaEf7nhzrY2oomdR-KrNAxrkf7IFE5-a_f4QL9U0aqL6CgN4us5k4bDlOMdBDwls/s320/marr.bmp" border="0" /><br />He was cared for by grandparents and relatives (primarily female) who doted on him - wanting to make up for the loss with gifts and devotion. I can't tell if this made him stronger or weaker, but I do know that he can't really operate a washing machine, an oven, or basic household items that anyone with a few months alone is forced to figure out. I'm sure that changed some things...<br /><br />He has a solid sense of humor - equal parts dry, quick witticism and cornball salad. I'm not entirely sure I agree with everything that he finds funny, but that's pretty normal. He is also very driven to succceed - this is demonstrated with long (often isolated) hours, pouring over work and Rotary details again and again until the finishing touches are complete. I appreciate the idea of "building something" in this fashion - leaving behind something for others to comb over. A "body of work" so to speak... How much of it is valid, of significance, or even interesting for anyone else is up for debate. I do know that focused time invested in anything changes things...<br /><br />My wife and I chose "Marr" as our son's middle name because that was the last name of the father my dad never knew. I do believe in these types of traditions and their significance. I do believe in keeping the embers of family alive. I do believe that this matters.<br /><br />I do love my father and I know that he loves me - for this I am lucky. I am excited about the idea of having a son that will get to know his grandfather, and I look forward to him understanding the significance of his place in time. I am my father's son...</div>Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863708211748925305.post-11443250299376527392007-03-02T20:01:00.000-08:002007-07-14T07:06:44.333-07:00Collision Course<div>We are bombarded every single day of our lives with information. Information that becomes our unseen weight.<br /><br />Even those that pretend to be advanced in their thought patterns are subject to easy manipulation in the face of simple information.<br /><br />Bombing statistics abroad, fathers to the child of Anna Nicole, who got voted off American Idol on Thursday... These are all things that I absorb through my CNN email headlines, my customized Google home page, and my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">DVR</span> that needs a release from sheer neglect...<br /><br />Speaking of release...<br /><br />Expression comes in many forms - a spontaneous yet "perfect" conversation about things that took on different meanings <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">after</span> you let them go, an artistic rant involving words or music or brushstrokes or... ???, a diary you filled with the freedom of how you were feeling - marking your place in history (at least for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">yourself</span>) in a warm hiding place. Everyone processes their information differently, and the end result (for those lucky enough to see the process through) is *release*.<br /><br />There are things we talk about and things we avoid. There are things we would like to talk about, but the moment can't be forced and never appears as we think it should. There are also things that are expressed through music, painting, dance, and a whole slew of varied interpretations. The end result is the need to clear our systems of the information we ingest. Through this process of expression, we *release* the information we ingest into the wild....<br /><br />Welcome to the world of blogging... a world where anyone can make all of their anonymous feelings available for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">consumption</span>, digestion, and commentary. A world where we process our information and regurgitate it back for someone e<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">lse to digest</span>. A world where the diary suddenly sucks because no one can read what I wrote when it's hidden in my top dresser drawer. A world where communication about daily events can feel like that cold distant X-Mas letter that "catches everyone up" on the familial goings on of all things boring.<br /><br />I have a wife that blogs to say things that she is too <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">embarrassed</span> to speak.<br />I have friends that blog because it's easier than picking up the phone to relay information.<br />I have friends that see it as a form of art.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5E8VpD9HnG5WiqfN0cAdEtSedDCaVbSCBUUDEAGCKA-m2Khah21bachBuWMbv-cbuyZQUguQvWOTdBH8tnjCQgAjPzjqTTENbkwGH-IdLosaY2SfhllmzHFs_G_OrRj0WTsgN12Ev-nZ9/s1600-h/Picture0.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087051811227104434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5E8VpD9HnG5WiqfN0cAdEtSedDCaVbSCBUUDEAGCKA-m2Khah21bachBuWMbv-cbuyZQUguQvWOTdBH8tnjCQgAjPzjqTTENbkwGH-IdLosaY2SfhllmzHFs_G_OrRj0WTsgN12Ev-nZ9/s320/Picture0.jpg" border="0" /></a>I can't lie... I am all three.</div>Canceled Checkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327607832414811082noreply@blogger.com0