watching the sun move

Normally, we cannot perceive the movement of the sun. At one point it is at this place in the sky, later, it has moved, but if you were to just stand and look at it, you would not notice. This week I painted a barn and some other out-buildings on a local farm. I started at seven in the morning to get as much cool morning time in as possible. At one point, I was painting a south-facing wall as the sun was inching up in the clear sky. As I painted, the arc of the sun's course brought the first gauzy beam of light cross the wall. I watched it happen. It was a quiet, magical moment. If I had been looking for it, it would have happened in a moment of mental distraction and I would have missed it. I saw it because I was so intensely focused on seeing the surface of that wall as I gauged my progress with the paint.

When I was a child, I saw many Royals games at Kaufman stadium. The outfield wall is lined with small billboards that magically change throughout the course of the game. I would often stare at these billboards, waiting to see them change. I never did. I would look at one moment and it would be Pennzoil. Later, the same sign would be John Deer and would realize that I missed the transition. It drove me crazy.

When distant friends and relatives see a child they always comment on how much that child has grown, but parents don't comment from moment to moment or even day to day about that growth. It is happening imperceptibly so that the regular viewer doesn't notice. Like the movement of the sun and those outfield billboards, parents just occasionally notice that their child is different from before. Sometimes this drives me nuts. I want to just sit at stare at David and just watch him change. I will have moments away from him when I think "he is changing right now and I am missing it."

I wonder if a week away from him is enough to perceive any growth from the last time I saw him at the airport a week ago.

I have certainly noticed growth in me. I didn't used to miss people that I was away from. I prided myself on this but it drove Significant Others crazy. I would be gone a week and someone would ask if I missed them and I would look at myself and realize that I hadn't even given them a thought, actually. I learned to lie about that early. Yes, of course I missed you. I saved this bag of airline peanuts for you.

Not now.

Now, I miss my wife and my son so much that I can physically feel their absence in my chest. Tomorrow, I will see them again.

I wonder how much they have grown.

Irish Eyes

Maire!  Thank you for visiting.  Jaime needs your new email!!!!  Please send to the email address in the sidebar beneath "rebuttals."

David is not around to photograph, so I'm picking on Tuff instead. Click on the image for a larger image. 

 

 

 

ch-ch-ch-changes

I hope that you like the new look.  Blogger has offered a variety of nice new templates that look pretty slick and have that Movable Type, css, Dooce-cool look.  This one is a little heavy on the formatting, which is causing some glitches, but I will keep working on it.  You will also notice that I have removed the thumbnail images from the side bar (now on the left).  The Buzznet link is still there and the photos that were at Buzznet are still there, but now that I can post photos directly into the blog, I got rid of the thumbnails because they slow the page down more.  Hope you like it.  Hopefully, more changes will be forthcoming.

Subjected to another of daddy's artsy close-ups. 

Walmart picture three. 

Grandpa and Granny Great (Gilbert) wanted the four-month mark well documented and took us to the Walmart portrait studio. 

Walmart shot three. 

WalMart shot five 

four months

David is four months old yesterday.  He weighs 15 pounds, 14.5 ounces--a big fish.

He is living up to his "turtle" nick-name--only in reverse.  He rolls over now from his back to his front as a matter of course.  However, rolling from front to back is more difficult (apparently) and he does not like to be on his tummy.  So it's roll, pause, whine, daddy turns him over, pause, roll, pause, whine, etc. 

In a bored, almost sleepy moment on Monday, started going "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh--" a long, dull monosyllable.  I put my finger to his mouth and wiggled it up and down producing a "badabadabadabadabada."  He rather liked that.  Now, I can put my finger to his mouth and half the time he will start with the "ahhhhhh."  The other half of the time, he just bites it.  I understand that one can catch a catfish by sticking one's hand into the holes that they make in the bank.  The fish will jump forward to bite the hand.  once the hand is in the fish's mouth grab quickly and pull.  David could be caught this way.  Just put . . . well . . .anything in front of his mouth and wait for him to clamp on.

Being four months old means getting to go on longer outings.  This week we went to Junction City to watch uncle Cory play baseball (see "around the horn").  Cory played great, the team played good, but their opponents served themselves up like the catfish that just jumps in the boat.  They ended in the seventh because of an 11-point spread.

Being four-months old means getting to go on even longer outings than that, though.  I took mother and child to the airport today and they flew to Colorado to be with Grandma Susie and Grandpa Stevie.  I will join them in a week.  I haven't decided if I will spend my first whole week sans wife and child writing my novel or curled up in a ball by the phone waiting for them to call.  I have heard that David was a dream on the plane, but will leave the details for his mother to post.  Perhaps she can find more ways of working fish references into her post.

Pictures on the way.

Later, fish fans.

He's not all me.

Hello,

 

Wife and Mom here.  The other night Jason and I were discussing our wonder boy and Jason made the comment that David is all me.  Granted the guy looks almost exactly like I did as a baby and we both have the same winning personality and a smile that kills, BUT as my family can attest David did inherit some of his father's traits. 

 

One day I'm bonding with David on the changing table sucking boogies out of his nose.  Most of the time he doesn't put up too much of a fight so I usually do this solo.  So, I flick my mop of hair to the side to get a better look and all of a sudden my head is being yanked backwards and down as if a ticked off female wrestler had grabbed me.  While I stand there stunned, staring at the ceiling my brain starts to process just what in the world has such a hold on my hair.  Then I catch the grin on my son's face.  His freaky feet were wrapped in my hair pulling it toward the pad.  It took both hands and threats of no car when you grow up to get my hair free from those skillful feet.  I think David's toes are already longer than mine.  Note to self, keep the hair up at all times.

I can't seem to post more than one photo at a time. 

I am posting this photos with some new software and am still working about bugs. 

Jaime documented David's first attempt to sit on his own. 

something for the STFs

Quite a bit of my traffic is refered from Glen "Subdeacon Tikhon" Matthew Thurman's blog. If his links list is any indication, visitors from his site may be looking for more Orthodox logorrhea. I don't have much of that but I do have something for you. While cleaning out my email I came across this post that I sent to the good Subdeacon way back before I had a reason to exist on the internet. Enjoy:

----
. . . I'm, like, the only white male on the planet without a Web Site so I should learn how to set one up and operate it. Unfortunately, I don't have a life worth dedicating a Site to.

So I am going to dedicate it to you.

It will be the "Unofficial Subdeacon Tikhon Thurman Fan Site." It will have a Thurman gallery with pictures, a Subdeacon Tikhon Thurman computer screen background image, and a Subdeacon Tikhon Thurman screen saver. The "Thurman Review" will be a place for collected writings, poems, articles, etc. about you. The STF chat room will be a place that other Subdeacon Tikhon Fans (STFs) can post thoughts, live sightings, etc. I will also have a blog review section in which I highlight your best posting of the week and review it.

Thank you for giving my life meaning.

----

Needless to say, I desided that it would be easier to have a child than actually make this idea a reality.

later STFs, and all the rest.

Goodbye Fr. Michael.

Reflecting on the current-events entries that I post to this blog, I realize that I have neglected to say anything about our priest's departure. Fr. Michael began serving at the parish here in Topeka on the day that Jaime and I were married in KC--the Sunday after the Feast of SS Peter and Paul, 2001--the same year that the Museum opened. His last day at this parish was the same Sunday, three years later; the same year that museum closed.. He is moving to Washington so that his wife, Makrina, can be closer to her family. Because of my position as Parish Council Secretary, I was asked to make the official "goodbye" speech at the going-away lunch. I will share my comments here to the best of my recollection.

As I said, I was asked to talk because I am on Parish Council. In that role, I got to serve with Fr. Michael in his capacity as the leader of this community. There are a variety of leadership "styles." Fr. Michael's style is very much that of the "friend." He as been our parish family's father as well as the cool uncle. As he and Makrina leave us, the loss is very much that of loosing friends and we will miss them the way that we miss close friends. But I also think that he maintained the delicate friend/leader balance well. While striving to be our friend, he did not fail to articulate a vision for this parish and guide it towards that goal. As he leaves us, we are a parish that has a vision and a plan for our future. I think that his tenure here will be regarded as a "transitional period" for our parish and he as done a good job taking us through the transition from mission to parish and has helped us develop a strong lay-leadership base that we can carry forward with our next priest.

And I am confident that as he and Makrina leave, they will will also feel that they are leaving good friends. But more than that, they will be leaving the best parish that they will ever have the privilege to serve. Ss. Peter and Paul is a "family" like no other parish can be and I am confident that in his future positions, he is never going to pastor another family that is as tight-knit and loving as this one. So we are saying goodbye to a dear friend, a leader, our Father, and our cool uncle. We also have to say "congratulations" to Makrina--Dr. Jody, MD--for successfully completing her residency and getting a position in a family practice in Spokane. We will also dearly miss her.. Thank you both for being a part of our lives, good luck with your future, and please pray for us. We wish you both many many years. Axios!

laughs

David laughs. He laughs a high squeaky baby squeal of mouth-wide-open
delight. He laughs the hardest at that thing. That thing that he
frequently sees downstairs flapping back and forth. It is dark and long and
thin and swings rapidly back and forth and back and forth in the air about
three feet above the floor and is just so delightful that David squeals like
the Pillsbury dough-boy on smack. This thing is usually accompanied by that
other thing that likes to get up in his face and smells bad and often licks
him. That big black and gray thing does not make him laugh; it just puzzles
him. It's as if he would like it to go away to that he can watch that other
wagging thing and laugh.

Venus fly trap. Put something in his hand and instantly the hand goes to
the mouth. Blanket in the hand--to the mouth! Rattle--to the mouth! Steak
knife--just kidding. I was trying to imagine the biological advantage of
this reflex at an age where he does not need to be able to feed himself
under normal circumstances. I imagine his primordial ancestral parents
being dragged away and eaten by saber-tooth tigers, leaving baby on the
floor of the cave or the hut or where ever. His only survival mechanisms
are charm and this hand-to-mouth reflex. What would he eat? It would have
to be small enough to get into his mouth and dumb enough to crawl into his
hand. I can only think of one thing--bugs. This discovery is a helpful
revelation while unemployed because a box of crickets is way cheaper than
baby food and the basement is fully stocked with all kinds of things. Heck,
when he gets hungry, we could just lay him on the basement floor, turn off
the lights, and let him fill his little face with high concentrations of
crunchy protein. I bet he would squeal with delight.