Papa and Zoralee

Don't mind me. I'll just be lying here,

roughly the size of a dinner plate.

Um, can I help you?

getting pats on the buns in the sun

I have sat down to blogged many times.

Um, make that "to blog." I'll leave that typo as a delicious indicator of fatigue.

The soundtrack to my life includes at the moment a fit-throwing infant. For no reason that we can tell of. I think she's over-tired and just can't deal. It almost always happens late like this, but none of the husband's tricks are working tonight. He's fixing to lay down with her on his chest and let her cry. So...as I was saying, I have sat down to blog many times with lots to say, but I look around the house and see receiving blankets, clothes, bags of tortilla chips, computer cords, and dirty dishes haphazardly strewn about, and I am drawn to put them in their places. I don't know why, because as soon as I turn my head, they go back to where they don't belong.

Entropy: a process of degeneration marked variously by increasing degrees of uncertainty, disorder, fragmentation, chaos, etc. [Webster's College Dictionary, Fourth Edition]

We're at five weeks. Some of my primary thoughts throughout the days (which all run together) are these:

1. HOLY CRAP! WE HAVE A KID!
2. What extra activities should I prioritize? "Extra" being talking to people I love on the telephone, taking a bath, writing thank you cards, and cooking real meals, where the food is hot and has multiple ingredients.
3. How on EARTH do single moms do this? I have a great support system, with a husband who has been home since the birth on account of not starting his next job until February, and a mom and pops who live right upstairs! And I'm still worn out.
4. There is a chance we are too old to be starting in on this. Like, we sort of stuck our tongue out at Nature, and now she's sticking hers out, right back at us.

I really can't complain on the whole. I have had plenty of socialization and opportunity for games and frolicking. I guess the specific problem, if you can call it that, is the lack of solid sleep. There is a reason why sleep deprivation is a torture technique, after all.

But enough of all that. Here are the redeeming moments!

1. Zoralee has been smiling more and more intentionally, and let me tell you, the power surge that goes through me when that happens, wow!
2. She is much calmer about everyday experiences like getting a diaper change, somehow realizing now that we are not, in fact, trying to kill her.
3. She loves baths! When she first hits the water, she's skeptical, but skepticism defines her anyway, so that's nothing. Then in an instant, she relaxes and actually rests her arms on the edge of the tub. It's rad.
4. What a sweet experience to hold her tiny body against me while she nurses. Her brows finally un-furrow after a long day of being grumpy, and she relaxes to the point of hypnosis.
5. And here's perhaps the best thing so far. Last week Zoralee was lying on the bed without a diaper, for the purpose of airing out her bum. I was standing nearby. Jason was on the bed at Zoralee's head, cooing to her and poking gently at her stomach, remarking that it seemed a bit bloated. All at once, this child let loose a blast of poo that shotgunned across the room. Both of us saw it. If we had a video of it, we'd be millionaires. Jason's first words were "GO GET THE MEASURING TAPE," which I did. Travelling distance was six feet, folks. And it would've been way further if it hadn't been stopped by the bassinet, because there wasn't a lot of elevation drop even at six feet out. Jason's next comments were that he was so proud of his daughter, and that even he couldn't have done that.

So yeah, the last point there wasn't initially a redeeming moment for me, because Jason had to go to an appointment and I was left to clean it up alone. But now it makes for a good story. When I told Luke over the phone, his comments mimicked Jason's almost exactly: this was the best thing he'd ever heard of a baby doing, and that even he couldn't have done that. Yes, she is making us proud.

Okay, pictures will be posted soon! Maybe even one or two tonight, before I crash.

Anniversary Party show

Last week we went to see Anniversary Party at an intimate venue in Whitefish called The Church, an old, very small A-frame style church that is used now for art and music and as a meeting place. Anniversary Party is comprised of a husband-wife duo, Kirk Cornelius and Annette Cornelius Strean; their style is alternative/accoustic/electronica. I hear hints of Latin rhythms too. I graduated from high school with Annette. She had then and still has what I consider to be one of the world's most beautiful voices. She's got amazing control, a big range, and an endless supply of vocal expressions. She is not boring to listen to or watch.

I also saw for the first time in 14 years a bunch of people I went to school with. In fact, I was sitting next to two of them and didn't recognize them - people I'd spent quite a bit of time with back then! Freaky deaky. The low lights didn't help, but still.


I loved the small town-ness of the show. Of course, this is a small town, but Annette has lived in Nashville and New York City, been in groups like Venus Hum and Blue Man Group, playing before huge audiences, appearing on national t.v., and touring internationally. And here, it was her sister and niece taking money at the door and stamping hands with whatever stamp they dug up at home. During the last song, the kids dropped coffee filter snowflakes from the balcony, and they floated down one by one, landing on heads and laps and hands. It was a beautiful show, a cocoon of warmth and subdued colored lights, while outside the snow kept falling and stacking up.

happy birthday, beautiful!

Today is the thirtieth birthday of my sister, the person with whom I share more formative memories and experiences than anyone else on earth. I love Rachel with such an intense love that I sometimes fear what would become of me if she were gone. So much of my identity is/was affected by her existence. Every time our birthdays roll around, six days apart, I remember the matching pink and purple crocheted afghans we got one birthday. Matching presents happened a lot, pink for Rachel and purple for me.

This is the first time I held her.

Mom wrote in the photo album that I called and called the hospital to find out when Rachel would be home. It feels like an accurate snapshot of an enduring, lifelong feeling I have of my sister, a picture that I hope over life's course will outshine those times that I have failed to hold her, out of my ignorance or blindness.

Rachel is a very strong woman, funny as hell, frank to the death, a loyal friend. Many, many people are better off for her presence in the world. I am one.

Today is also the birthday of Rachel's namesake, our Grandma Maxine, who passed away this fall. Here they are together 30 years ago! There are better photos of them together, I'm sure, but I love this one because of Rachel's intensity over a plastic egg.

And here she is modern day. Modern 7 days ago, actually, on New Years' with Cam. She and two girlfriends dressed up crazy funky and went out with their husbands. They dressed normal normal.