Monthly Archives: June 2008
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originally published on June 30, 2008
Since Liam’s birth, we’ve been humbled by the generosity and kindness of our family and friends. We are blessed to have such a supportive group of people surrounding us.
In addition to the wonderful gifts, outfits (and diapers, God bless you for those) and such, we received a packaged today that was rather unexpected. My parents, who still live in Ohio, have some truly incredible neighbors. A few years back my mother and father befriended the young couple that moved in next door, and have since become close to them as their family has grown. My mother helps out with their children when they need it, and it makes me unbelievably happy that they both are such good company for each other.
When the family found out that we were pregnant, they showed up at my parents house with a slew of baby-related stuff for us to borrow indefinitely…bassinets, pack-n-plays, swings, etc. Hundreds of dollars of stuff that we did not have to register for since most are only used for such a short time. I was stunned at their unselfishness and likely will never get to fully express my gratitude, since I’ve only met them in passing once or twice.
And yet today on our doorstep arrived a large package from their address. While visiting relatives in China, they bought welcome gifts for Liam. And they included in the package some real oolong tea for me. For all I know it could the Tetley’s of China, veritable sawdust passing as tea leaves. But the fact that it’s from China, and the box is all beautiful and authentically Chinese makes it way cooler than anything I’ve ever seen.
These people don’t even know me, yet because they love my parents they continue to extend their friendship to my wife, my son and myself. This kindness of relative strangers is so overwhelming, and it helps dilute some of the inherent cynicism that seems to run through my brain these days.
As soon as Liam can understand it, I’m going to teach him about the Zhao’s, their charity, and what it means to be a good friend. I hope we both can live up to that model.
originally published on June 26, 2008
Last Thursday, while my wife was still in the hospital, I slipped out for a spell after her mother arrived to take care of her. With my parents leaving town, Jonas had no one to look after him and thus had to take a trip to the kennel. Or as we call it here, Summer Camp. That sounds so much more fun! Or perhaps it just tweaks the guilt a little bit so as to be more palatable.
So there I was, my first time in public since becoming a father, and I failed on an epic scale. Miserable, horrific failure. I couldn’t even interact with one human being over eight pounds without blowing it. Despite having ZERO reason to inject it into the conversation, I opened my mouth and out it came tumbling. “So yea, I’m dropping him off because my wife and I just had our first child and we’re still in the hospital.” Ugh. I almost barfed on myself right there.
As I walked back to the car, I was drenched in self-loathing. In one shot I had become “That Guy,” the obnoxiously happy, gleeful new father with no reason to tell you his good news. I was mortified at my behavior. And if this alien body-snatching keeps up, I’ll be that bumper-sticker-sporting asshat who is WAY too into the peewee league soccer games in no time.
I need a shower. I feel dirty.
originally published on June 24, 2008
My wife is the most amazing person I’ve ever met. Those who know me know that I couldn’t be further from a “cheesy” person, so I say this with nothing but the utmost sincerity, avoiding any sort of platitudes.
Last Tuesday night, after being in the pains of labor for almost 36 hours, we hit a wall. The doctors were convinced that despite maxing her out on induction drugs, there was no hope of her continuing on that path. “Failure to progress” was the official medical term used to justify slicing her open, a decision that was made in less than two minutes. What ensued was hands-down the most terrifying hour of my life.
Waiting outside the operating room at 8:25pm I struggled to comprehend how we got here. I was deathly afraid for her, for the baby. Despite being rational and knowing that statistically we were safe, I had a moment of uncharacteristic panic. Seeing her in crucifixion position on the O.R. table did little to mollify my fears.
“And while I get a twinge of panic or bitterness at what seems lost, these feelings are fleeting, swept aside by his tiny sneezes or innocent yawns.”
Within three minutes we had a son, Liam Gabriel. He entered the world at a very healthy 8lbs 8oz (with perhaps two full pounds in his chubby cheeks alone!) What followed this joy, however, was days upon days of nightmarish pain for my wife, endless anguish that medication did little to extinguish. In this time, our marriage was entirely redefined. We’ve been to places now that I didn’t know existed within the emotional geography of matrimony. But she came out the other side just fine. Bruised and battered, but an incredible mother to our son.
Seven days, and my previous life is already foggy in my memory. Personal time, proper rest, sanity and relaxation have been set aside to make room for Liam’s happiness and nutrition. And while I get a twinge of panic or bitterness at what seems lost, these feelings are fleeting, swept aside by his tiny sneezes or innocent yawns.
Seven days have changed my lifetime. I’m excited for what’s to come.
originally published on June 17, 2008
Oh dear Jesus I feel horrible for my wife. We’ve been here at the hospital for just about 24 hours now, staring at the same beige walls and sentenced to this continual limbo of sitting, waiting, blinking and essentially just being frustrated. I shouldn’t even say “we” because while it may be mind-numbingly boring for me, boring < painful any which way you slice it. And that’s what kills me.
This is the first real time in our relationship that I’ve had to stand by and watch my wife struggle in pain, alone, me unable to “fix it” like the prototypical male is programmed to do. Sure we’ve had our illnesses and minor injuries before this, but there are no comparisons to be made here. Being sidelined in this makes me feel more alone than I had expected, more isolated from her than I could have ever prepared myself to face. While she languishes in pain and discomfiture over essentially making no progress, I sit. Holding her hand or helping her to the bathroom does little to bridge the gap into the world she’s in right now.
So we wait, and she finds new limits of resolve within herself. And I discover a heightened appreciation for partners that watch their loved ones battle persistent diseases.
And I find an even more profound level of love for my wife.
originally published on June 16, 2008
originally published on June 16, 2008
Man, I really thought we were going to have a baby this past weekend. All the signs were maybe, quite possibly pointing in that direction. I jumped into action. With each new symptom she had I was referencing and cross-referencing books. I was baking food for hospital snacks. I was making her a plate of bacon to stay calm. I was gathering and grouping stuff to take with us. I was cleaning windows. Because you cannot bring a baby home to a house with dirty windows. Everyone knows that.
And then: nothing.
It amazes me how even in 2008 the world is not that far along. We’ve long since put someone into space. We can clone things and manipulate the world’s weather. Hell, we live in a world where even Clay Aiken can have a successful career, yet you’re telling me we can’t figure out definitive signs of labor? Dear medical community, how about we stop searching for cures of restless leg syndrome and instead focus on this labor thing, eh?
This past weekend was the most frustrating game of charades. “OOH! That was a contraction! Was that a contraction!? No? Was it in your cervix? Okay, okay, how about your back? You’re lower back? Crap, this game sucks. Have some more water.”
My poor wife could do little but sit on the couch for three days feeling like absolute crap and it was seemingly all for naught, despite what the signs and symptoms showed. According to the books, we were well on our way to Babyland and we were doing things to help it along (I’m not sure my wife’s consumed that much water ever.) I’ve never regretted my decision to not go into medical school more than I did this past weekend. (truth: also every time I get a paycheck)
And so we now wait. Part of me hopes, selfishly, that she doesn’t have to be induced. I want to be tested, to have all the past 8.5 months of reading put to good use in terms of detecting and managing stuff on our own before we waddle off to the hospital. But who knows. If I were to take a guess, I’d say that we’ll have a new member of the family by the end of the week.
That’s not in the books, though. Just a hunch.
originally published on June 13, 2008
- BMW concept, GINA [video] - Geometry/function in INfinite Adaptations. Entirely rethinking car design by using “fabric” skin. It’s radical. And oh-so-cool.
- Moog’s new guitar - Who would have thought Moog would make a guitar, and such a badass one at that? Infinite sustain due to special metallurgy of the strings. Watch the video.
- Mid-Century Modernist - A site dedicated to the aesthetic/historical movement in design (art, architecture, furniture design, etc). I lurv me some MCM (sounds cliche, as most designers do) and this is a fantastic resource/inspiration. [via]
- The Pursuit of Happiness EP from Mike Kohlbecker - Mike and I went to high school and college together and now he’s off being a bigwig art director in Colorado. He offers his music for free so you should check it out. His latest EP reminds me slightly of Against Me! if it were filtered through some Living Well…”-era Midtown? I especially dig “Dear Departed.” Keep it up, Mike.
- Nocino recipe - Elise’s writeup for this walnut liqueur sounds fantastic. Apparently it’s from David Lebovitz (who’s ice cream book I both adore and swear by). The thought of a spicy, sweet walnut liqueur poured over some vanilla ice cream sounds wonderful.
originally published on June 11, 2008
It’s odd how things in life seem to imitate each other. Or maybe it’s just perceived similarities that we read too much into. Or maybe I haven’t had enough coffee yet.
With all the hullabaloo over the end of the world rising gas prices, I’ve been making further changes to my life to help offset, if just a wee bit, the cost of my daily commute. I’m still not back to riding the bus, since being 40 miles away from my car would probably be a bad idea if The Wife™ decided it was game time and I needed to get to wherever she was and take her to the hospital. So for now, I’m still driving.
But starting last summer (and in a reinvigorated way now), I began to be more sensible. Out of my truck came the giant speakers, thus reducing my carload by about 200lbs. And I started going the speed limit, chillin’ in the right lane with all the other old people. The only difference is I don’t brake for Red Lobster.
Now, I was never one with a lead foot. Most of my high school friends were speed demons, but I suppose that’s a byproduct of being a hormone-addled 16 year old male. Or at least that’s what they told the cop when they got busted for DRAG RACING in a 35mph zone. Idiots.
So even though I’ve always been a “under eight over” kinda guy, I’ve cut it down to exactly the posted speed limit. And I’ve been surprised at how different things are.
No longer do you worry about jockeying for position, showing that a-hole who’s who or flying past that jerkface who just cut you off. Cruising in the right lane lets me see all of this go on around me (albeit with a few dirty looks for abiding by the law and making them late). It’s quite amusing, and makes me realize how stressed out it used to make me just trying to drive to work slightly faster and more aggressively.
The end result (beyond slightly better fuel efficiency) is an even more mellow me by the time I get downtown at 7am. It’s nice. I like it.
So while I can’t retaliate against some clown who wronged me by pulling in front of them, rolling down my back window and cranking up some obnoxiously loud bass, I have a few more minutes of time on my hands to think about how life here in Louisville, while not overly exciting, is a pretty good pace. I may yearn to go faster sometimes, but it never ends up being as exciting as I think it would be, so I should learn to be fine with just coasting along in the slow lane with the geriatric crowd.
originally published on June 06, 2008
- The Most Terrifying Video You’ll Ever See - Okay that’s a bit melodramatic, but the embedded video from Oregon science teacher Greg Craven does a fantastic job using logic to discuss climate change. Level-headed and unbiased. Bonus points for wearing a Ze Frank shirt. [thanks Laura]
- Promo idea for My Morning Jacket’s new album - I’m excited for Evil Urges to come out. They killed it on SNL. And putting your album out on 10,000 jukeboxes around the country is a pretty cool idea for promotion. Perfectly in sync with who they are as a band.
- Where We Do What We Do - Continuing my infatuation with photos of people’s offices/workspaces. And here’s an entire site dedicated to it! I’d kill for natural lighting like this. Hell, a window would do.
- The 2009 Toyota Venza - I dig this new concept from Toyota. Not totally in love with it, but maybe have a crush on it?
- Beautiful packaging - Smashing Mag profiles some great product packaging design. I’m particularly smitten with these coffee cups and the Selfridges line.
originally published on June 03, 2008
Before I was married, I simply used tissues when I was sick. Now that my wife’s hillbilly state has corrupted me I’m married, I use toilet paper. Or paper towels. Or napkins. And now that my work cut costs and my last bastion of hope no longer affords me such luxury, I’ve resorted to using paper screen cleaning wipes to try and rid myself of this blasted head cold. Maybe in another three years of living here I’ll think it’s perfectly acceptable to put my car on blocks in my front lawn while my chickens mill about aimlessly.
The depths of incivility to which I’ve fallen cannot be measured by anything but the sound of gently weeping, well-mannered angels. Angels who console themselves with plush Kleenex™ coated with aloe-y goodness.
Lucky bastards.
