avablog

This is not a political blog.

I’m not talking about that most fragile of all kinds of hope, the kind that you put in a man to end the appalling policies of his predecessor on unlawful detention and torture. I’m talking about that larger hope, that hope that the next generation — and all generations thereafter — are going to somehow be OK. This video feeds that larger hope; I hope it does for you, too.

You’ve been an idea . . . a dream . . . a secret desire for so long that I almost don’t know what to make of you now. Your tiny fingers brush my insides; your limbs ripple my skin. And still I can’t believe you’re real. You came from one of the eggs that has been inside of me since I was inside of my mother. You have always been there, waiting to find me.

How will you know me? By the thump of my heart and the sigh of my breath–by the noises that lulled you to sleep and awakened you from watery dreams as you grew fingers and toes, eyelashes and hair.

What began as yearning became a shaking hand with a pregnancy test–and then a terrifying jumble of needle sticks and genetic counseling. Since then, the days and hours have been so full  of words, and work , and laundry, and to-do lists, and love for your sister that I have not had much time to sit quietly with you. Now you are just days away from entering a confusing world of lights and sound and air. And I am about to see , for the very first time, your tiny fingernails, your soft cheeks, the curve of your lashes.

When you finally leave my body to enter this new world, I will reach for you across all that noise and through all that bright air. I will reach for you, little one, and I will never let you go.

I caught Ava in a relative moment of repose the other day and asked her a couple questions about the unborn baby. She was as forthcoming as she ever is, which is to say, moderately.

I took my XTi along on a short family walk last night; it felt like I hadn’t picked it up in months. But a few shots reinvigorated my love for the thing.

I’ve been looking for ages for the perfect video for Aunt Rachel, one that combines her love of fitness with her frequent intestinal troubles. Today, friends and family, my quest is over. And wouldn’t you know it, the Japanese are to thank!

We’ve got it, unborn baby! Though I will stipulate that your mother is not so thrilled lately as the rest of us. We got a new video camera last week that we plan to use to capture all sorts of totally unnecessary footage of your early weeks and months of development; I used it to capture this little gem, wherein your big sister expresses her fondness for you even as you grow in the womb.

Go ahead, hit the “HD” button and then launch it full screen.

Whazzzup, unborn baby? God, I can’t wait to show you that commercial. Anyway….

Your mom and I put up some fancy decorations in your room last night. I hope you like flowers a birds! Take a look:

I see you:

Hola, unborn baby.

Well, things are speeding up. We’re going to see your mom’s doctor once a week now instead of twice a week. We had an appointment this morning, which your big sister attended, and everything looked fine. Ava held the sonogram device while we all listened to your heartbeat. She wondered about why your heart beats so fast, and the doctor said that it just does. She said that when the baby is born, its heart will slow right down to a more normal speed.
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“There are two tragedies in life: one is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.”
–George Bernard Shaw

I think it must have been the sight of the newly assembled co-sleeper in our bedroom, bathed in soft light. I can’t say for sure what triggered the feeling, but late last night, after tucking the sheets back around Ava, I suddenly was gripped by an overwhelming sense of sadness. I felt unmoored by the idea that my little girl will have to share me with someone else–that she will have to be one of two planets around which my moon will now rotate. I found myself fleetingly, deeply grieving the seismic shift that will upend our family’s holy trinity.
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That was one of the most amazing weekends, weather-wise, ever. Wow. Would’ve been difficult to order a better one. We did our usual stuff: Farmer’s Market, Java House, yard work, long walks. My DSLR was on loan to a friend on Saturday, so I shot with my trusty Canon A620 all weekend. Gosh, that’s a nice little camera. It’s particularly good at capturing macros around the yard, which I’m doing a lot of this time of year. But it’s also handy for stuff like this:

The Creative Labs Vado HD.

Leah and I have been cogitating on this purchase for a while, but seeing Danny’s Mino last weekend brought us closer to action (well, that and all the contractions Leah’s been having recently). If you’re wondering, the better (IMO) specs of the Vado weren’t the only things pushing me in that direction; this video comparing the output side by side was very persuasive.

Guess this means you can “look forward” to more video here at avablog (and its sister/brother blog).

The trick is, you can’t really jump the shark if you were never The Fonz in the first place. I trust at least one of my readers will know what the hell I’m talking about. Fortunately, you don’t really have to know to enjoy this:

Are you seeing the trend? Anyway, Kevin just informed me he’s been auditing the products from a new-to-him brewery in WI called Viking Brewing. Perusing their brew list, I knew right away it was the brewery for me when I spotted the following two offerings:

Big Swede is a Swedish Imperial Stout brewed to the maltier side. Nose of vanilla, coffee, currants and wood. Nutty & creamy, a hint of molasses, dark fruits, carob, & a whiff of whiskey.

Abby Normal is a Trippel Abby-style Ale. Flavor is sweet toasted buttery malts, honey and some candi sugars. Also spicy with notes with green apples and molasses and a floral hop garnish.

The melding of beer and “Young Frankenstein” is probably the surest path to my heart. I can’t wait for Kevin’s visit to I.C. next weekend!

My cool wife just sent me this link to a story about a photographic treasure trove.

But the rolls turned out to be in remarkably good shape despite being almost untouched for 70 years. And so began a painstaking process of unfurling, scanning and trying to make sense of some 4,300 negatives taken by Robert Capa, Gerda Taro and David Seymour during the Spanish Civil War, groundbreaking work that was long thought to be lost but resurfaced several years ago in Mexico City.

My new wetware pal Danny came to town over the weekend for a soggy, slightly chilly visit. We had a small grilling session at a nearby park on Saturday afternoon, which was lots of fun. Especially nice was that all the kids were in famous spirits; it would’ve been really nice to have had Danny”s boys in the mix, too, but what kind of vacation would that have been for him? Here’s a shot of my little lumpkin making lemonade out of lemons:

I’m not sure whether to be more astounded that this hit my gmail inbox or that someone’s still working the Nigerian scam. Either way, it gave me pause.
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Me again, unborn baby.

I thought you might enjoy hearing a funny thing your mom said today. She and I were talking via IM about switching up our usual pizza night to accommodate the fact that I’ll be out of town on Thursday. Your mom’s been feeling frustrated lately with comments people have been making about the size of her belly, so when I mentioned pizza…well, here, read it for yourself:

Leah: Feed old fatty some pizza.
Old Octomom.
Biggie Smalls.
LOL
me: Oh now….
Biggie Smalls. That’s good.
Leah: lol
I know.

This is funny, unborn baby, not because your mother is making a direct comparison between herself and the deceased rotund rapper of the same name, rather because it’s such an apt description of your mom’s paradoxical physical appearance. I can’t wait for you to arrive so you can get a load of your mom’s sense of humor in person.

On NPR this morning, they were covering reactions to President Obama’s recent trip to the Middle East. Most accounts consider it a disappointing visit. But I wondered at this effort to fit the square peg of Democracy into the round hole of thousands of years of theocracy and sectarian struggle.
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