It's been too long

I'm sure others have made the same assertion.

Since my last post, life has changed quite a bit.
1. My wife, son, and I have moved over 2600 miles to Bellingham, Washington. This place is amazing. We live a 10 minute walk from the Pacific Ocean (in bay form) and can be at the top of the world after a 90 minute drive.

2. I am unemployed. This was convenient before Alastair was in daycare, but now is scary. Especially with the price of daycare.

3. As mentioned above, our nearly six-month old son has entered daycare yesterday. It was tough not to wonder about his well-being, but we trust the providers and I'm too busy filling out applications to dwell on it.

In addition to all the beautiful scenery and accessible outdoor activity, I've been catching up on my reading:

On the airplane I read Bones to Ashes by Kathy Reichs. Not bad. It kept me occupied, but got too seedy when some minors were exploited by the bad guys.

Upon my arrival, I finished Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick. This was good. The shifting realities and multiple points of view were thoughtful. The ending was a little weak. Maybe the fallout dust was getting to Decker.

I began and finished Moon Palace by my favorite author, Paul Auster in 24 hours. It had all the things I enjoy about Auster's work: great prose, the search for identity, and coincedences (I've also become addicted to Lost). This was the first book I took out of the public library here on the west coast. Bonus points if you know why I found this book timely.

I embarked on my first Dostoyevsky novel: his last. I am enjoying the flow of the language and the imagery. I'm less than 100 pages into it, but I'm definetly hooked.

Ciao

The Kid is Alright

My post yesterday was not premature. Alastair and his mommy went to the doctor today and got cleared to keep the brace off. The next time he has to go back is in 4 months for an X-ray. I spread the news at work; everyone was very happy.

I'm glad, but I've gotten so used to the brace that it doesn't seem a big deal. The biggest relief is that our son is improved. Must be the old Boy Scout in me. Always leave the campsite in better shape then when you got there.

Of course I'm relieved that Alastair doesn't need surgeries (for this ailment) and traction. I feel satisfied that my wife and I did our jobs as parents and strapped that harness on every 12 hours.

Let's hope we have the same fortitude when he's 14 and needs help with his math homework.

Cute stuff

Tomorrow, Alastair goes for his next and possible final check up at the orthopedic clinic.

He may get out of his brace for good. For the past 6 weeks, he's been in the brace for 12 hours a day. It makes life much easier. He is floppier without the brace, but easier to change and get in his car seat.

So for posterity, here are some pictures of Alastair.

Road work

I've been riding my bike the 4 miles to work for most of the days in the past two weeks. There really is something nice about waking up before the rest of the building, climbing into some shorts and pedaling for 30 minutes. You notice things, both pleasing and gross.

First thing after my shower, I suck down some water and gaze at my sleeping wife and 2-month -old son. They are so peaceful. Exhausted, but peaceful. I sling on my backpack, go to the disgusting basement and haul my bicycle up the 1/2 flight of stairs. In my basement, there is a locked storage space that looks like it houses some detainees on the wrong side of the Geneva convention. Real pleasant. Then I'm off.

The fresh breeze often smells of the lake first thing in the morning. Trust me, this is nice. After a few minutes, I start passing some beautiful houses. There is a dead squirrel next to the curb in front of one house. On Monday, the squirrel had no visible wounds. On Tuesday, its brains started leaking out of its mouth. On Wednesday, I see no change and chuckle to myself. Thursday and Friday go the same way: me glancing at the ex-squirrel, thinking "Hey there" and proceeding through part of Delaware Park, nodding my hellos to the assorted early AM types.
The weekend passes and I don't see my fellow commuters, or the resident on the curb. There must of been a party at the mansion over the weekend. Cars parked on the side of the road. BMW and Porsche SUVs. Just like one of Gatsby's parties. Bright lights, big headlights, and unfamiliar faces. Do you think the driver that rolled over Rocky realized what he did?
The rest of this week was spent looking at a squirrel that was passed through an old laundry machine. The one on Tom and Jerry where the cat comes out looking like a gray fruit roll-up.
It took until Thursday to get Rocky scooped up. Maybe someone said something at the last party.

I don't look too close to the curbs anymore.

I look for the diamonds of broken glass, the stealth shadows of pot holes, and a semi-famous musician that lives on my route who walks her baby.

Escabeche from Belize

Man, I made this great recipe from one of our favorite and most used cookbooks: Extending the Table. This book is recipes collected from around the world by Mennonite missionaries. If you don't mind little excerpts about the "sacred nature of food," then this is a great cookbook for you. Many of the recipes are made with beans, rice, and small quantities of meat; cooking more, with less. Eating this way is more socially and environmentally conscious, not to mention economical. These three goals are things my wife and I are struggling to achieve. Do we go out on a whim and spend $30 on burgers and beer at our favorite tavern? You bet. But we know we shouldn't.

Here's the recipe from page 82 (my personal notes appear in blue text):

Schlabach, J.H. (1991). Extending the Table: A World Community Cookbook. Herald Press:
Scottdale, PA.

Belizean Chicken Stew "Escabeche"

In a large soup pot, brown in 3 T of oil:
2-3 lb. chicken, cut in pieces (When I butcher a whole chicken for something like this, I cut the breasts in half against the grain of the meat. These "quarter-breast" pieces are about the same size as the thighs. This gives you 8 serving pieces: 2 quarter-breasts, 2 whole wings, 2 thighs, and 2 legs. Keep the skin on, but remove any large pieces of fat. See below for notes on chickens. I recommend seasoning the bird before browning.)
Add:
2 qt. water
1-2- cloves garlic, minced (or pressed)
salt and pepper to taste (I salt and pepper the chicken before browning.)
3 whole cloves (I used about 5. This adds a warm, flavor that is different, but not unfamiliar)
2 t. dried oregano (or more)
1/4 c. vinegar (I used cider vinegar, but use anything except balsamic.)
2-3 whole chili peppers (I used two fresh serrano chiles and one dried ancho chile)
Bring to a boil, then simmer until chicken is tender, about 20-30 minutes (don't forget to cover the pot)
Meanwhile, cut into rings:
1 lb. onions (I doubled the onions)
Soak in warm water 30 minutes (The onions, not you). Drain and add to other ingredients. Cook 2 minutes. (Remove the chiles) Serve with (corn) tortillas and/or Belizean Potato Salad (p.113).

The book then cites their field sources. If you need to know, send me a comment.

This is a great, cheap recipe that feeds an army. I heaped bowls with onions made milder by their soaking while retaining some crisp texture. Be mindful of the whole cloves; they are unpleasant to bite down upon. The chicken was juicy and flavorful. The broth was slightly spicy with a distinct clove aroma. Give each person one portion of chicken and bring on the warmed corn tortillas!

For the leftovers, I separated the solids a liquid. Once the broth is cold, the fat comes to the surface and solidifies, making it easy to remove.

Notes on whole chickens
These days, a whole chicken weighs a lot (at least 5 pounds). When a recipe calls for a smaller amount of chicken parts, I usually reserve a half-breast. The whole breast is the two halves, joined the the middle. One half-breast is what we usually eat as a portion. Every time I cut up a chicken, I freeze a boned, skinned half-breast with the tenderloin removed. So, we have a stockpile of boneless, skinless chicken breasts and a bag of chicken tenders (for stir frying). We also have a lot of chicken backs and giblets for making stock.

C-ya

Welcome to the Club

Being a dad has its privileges: late nights, poopy diapers, messy apartment, and knowing that it is all worth it because you are 50% responsible for the best thing to hit the planet. There is one other perk: hearing great stories.

Tonight, some of my extended family came over for dinner and to meet Alastair for the first time. We are a large, and fairly close-knit, family. However, we do have our secrets. What family doesn't? Well, some came out tonight. I won't focus on the sad ones, but there were so many stories of extraordinary things happening. Babies survived risky deliveries and are now my teenage cousins.

I never heard these tales before. I don't know if it was because I was young, or I just wasn't part of the club. My wife and I are among the first of our friends to have children; there has not been much celebration of this rite of passage. People smile, and remember, and give some token advise that we heard a billion times before. But tonight, we talked about surviving and coping as a family.

There was laughing and respectful silence.

It was great and I am grateful.

My question:

A picture of what family should be linked to the purple text?

Just some pictures

Alastair for President: a buggy in every hallway and a bottle in every mouth.

Some Baby Issues

Raising Alastair is going well. Here's a list, with a few details, of things Emily and I are dealing with:

1. Emily had a c-section. Until this Monday, I was the only one who could carry things heavier than Alastair. This was no problem, except the two of them were stuck upstairs until I got home. Emily just got clearance to resume normal activities!
   
2. Because he was frank breech for so long, Alastair has hip ddysplasia on the left. The ball portion of his hip is not quite engaged with the socket. The joint can grow together properly while the cartilage is turning to bone. Since his birth, Alastair has worn a Pavlik harness to correct the problem. A recent ultrasound revealed encouraging results. Alastair wears this thing 24-7 over a onesie. I'll address the issues (i.e. bathing) with this at a later post.
3. Alastair has a minor case of hypospadia, a birth defect of the urethra. I will not link to Wikipedia on this; results contain images of the condition. Google at your own risk.... Bottom line, it will be corrected with routine surgery once Alastair is a few months older.
4. Sleep dep. Holy crap I'm a zombie. I've fallen asleep in the shower and in the elevator at work. More writing should be borne out of this.
   
5. Alastair is too cute for his own good. A picture is worth a thousand words.

Food Improv #1

The wife, son, and I had some good friends visit with us this weekend. I had a shelf full of chicken breasts (I skin and bone them myself, I'm cheap and snobby) that were headed to Funkytown, one diner with "sensitivities" to lactose, wheat, and potatoes, another on a calorie-controlled diet, and lots of small quantities of little things laying in the fridge and pantry. Here's what I threw together:

Soundtrack: Vinyl Killer by Drums & Tuba

• bone and skin 4 chicken breasts (removing the tenderloin and freezing it for stir-fry and the bones for stock)
• saute 4 cloves of garlic in a little olive oil
• rehydrate some sundried tomatoes and deglaze the pan with the rehydrating liquid (tomato tea, you could say). I through the liquid in because my garlic was about to burn. Burnt garlic sucks
• add minced sundried tomatoes and some dried herbs (I can't recall, maybe some oregano and basil) and dried hot pepper flakes
• push to one side of the pan, away from the heat source, but keep a medium heat on the sucker
  
• add saltandpeppered chiggin breasts sear for 2 min or so on each side
• add a few glugs of cheap sherry and give the pan a righteous shake, careful of flareups
  
• cover and reduce heat to simmer

This was good, but I had some more things to use up

• after the chikkan is cooked, about 10 min, add a heaping handful of chopped fennel tops (the feathery parts) cover again for minute
• add a glug of Pernod
  
• serve on top of sauted kale and beet greens (or spinach)
• give a healthy drizzle of balsamic vinegar

There it is: dairy free, gluten free, health conscious, alcoholic, easy, and impressive.

Questions

1. What would you add? remove?


2. What should I call it?

Become father

So, I'm going to cut to the chase and not draw out the story I started. Bottom line: my wife delivered the baby via cesarean section. Since it was discovered he was in breech position, there was no room for debate. I saw some of the operation, but stepped back to comfort my wife when the doctors prepped the muscle spreader. No one wants to see their best friend's guts.

Our son is named Alastair William. He was born at 4:22 AM on a school night. 9 lbs. 8 oz and 20.5 inches. A beast. But a cute beast. I'm torn between anonymity and ...nymity? We've received lots of feed back on the name. Here's its story:

A couple weeks after Emily and I found out about her pregnancy, I had a dream that we had a son and his name was Alastair. I shared this with my wife. When the sonigram revealed his male sex, my Emily said: "Alastair it is." For the next 6 months, I played devil's advocate with the name but Emily was convinced it was his name too. We kept the name secret from most (as recommended by sundry friends and advice books). When he was yanked from his little studio apartment, the name stuck even faster.

So this brings me to my dad being an asshole.

When I was growing up my father was like a force of nature. Unpredictable and occasionally cruel. Not abusive, just hard to get along with. Once I moved out, things got better. He took action to improve his life and I did so with mine. We've gotten along extremely well for the past 10 years or so. We still do. However, as I escorted my parents--now grandparents for the first time--my father reverted to his old self. He stated that it was inconsiderate for me to have named our child what we did, that he (and therefore we) would have to deal with this the rest of his young life.

Now I appreciate the viewpoint, but here I was, about to introduce my family to my new family. I was sleep-deprived and high on adrenaline and basking in the glow of my beautiful son and wife and the day and this prick lectures me in the parking garage?

Question:

Should I tell Pops what I think?

The Gauntlet

Our son was born on Monday, April 7 at 4:22 in the A.M.

I hope to reflect soon, but here's a blow-by-blow of recent events.

My previous post proved eerily true. Emily's water broke around 1 AM. It was grayish brown; meconium was present in the fluid. It was panic inducing. But we got our wits about us, jumped into the shower and got ready. We called our other birth coach, Emily's sister "Heather." Every time Emily shifted or had a contraction more sludge came out. Then we thought:
"How do we get there without fucking up our car seats?"
Heather came equipped with some overnight pads and we were off to the races.

Amongst my friends I am not famous for my sense of direction. I have gotten lost in my hometown of Buffalo, NY many times. Most of the time this is manifested as a wrong turn followed by a zip around the block or a U-ey. So the point is...I made a wrong turn getting to the hospital. My wife--this should show you how strong she is and how hopeless I am--corrected my mistake MID CONTRACTION! What a catch.

So we got to the hospital and were admitted. The obstetrician asked Emily to hop up on a bed and put her feet in the stirrups. He squeezed some goop on her belly, looks to the monitor and says....

FADE TO BLACK, CUE MINOR 7 CHORDS AND VOICEOVER

Waiting

And so we wait. My wife "Emily" and I are waiting and doing what we can to convince our son to enter our world soon.

I am still anxious and happy. Most recently, I am happy because this whole 9 months I was fairly certain that I will continue with my life with both a wife and a child. Medical care is great! As stressed as I am about money and careers and cars and cribs, I have never worried about losing a part of my family.

We are lucky to live in a time where science and tradition are welcome in the birth. Emily and I hope to have our baby with as little intervention as possible. We have been practicing massage techniques and meditations. We have been walking, drinking teas, and more. If these don't work, we have skilled professionals. It will be great if they work. To be pretty certain that me, Emily, and our child will come out that hospital with a baby and a good story is a relief.

There are still many obstacles we have to worry about. Have I even imagined half of them? My life really changed when I heard this poem at church one morning: "Ithaka" by Constantine Cavafy. I thought to welcome obstacles and challenges. At least I won't have to face them alone.

It don't mean Dookie...

I've returned from a friend's recording session where the above lyric was repeated many times. The full lyrics were about sitting on your ass during primary season, being proud our your blog-supplied political views, and how they "don't mean dookie unless you get out and vote." This was done in a Jimmie Rogers style and quite fun to record, but it brought my current situation into sharp focus.

Yes, I'm concerned about our political system giving us only the illusion of choice. Yes, I'm concerned about our culture of consumption and where it is taking our arrogant nation and the world. But mostly I'm worried about being a dad.

Excited too!

The title I chose for the blog refers to a poem from a book of modern verse I grew up with. "Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle Received from a Friend Called Felicity" by John Tobias talks about how wonderful, yet unreliable, our memories are. This may be my last chance to write before I am a father. My wife and I are expecting a son any day now. We're just waiting...and cleaning. I hope to explore what fatherhood means to me in a spiritual, emotional, and physical context. However, I plan to write some idealized observations of my life before and after paternity. I'll throw in some discussion of music and movies, as well as my other interests too.

Thanks to B-Dog for the inspiration.