Geez, been awhile since I posted here. A lot has transpired these last few couple of months and I feel somewhat guilty for not posting here. However, rest assured, Zoe is pretty active on her blog, so that would be a good place to catch up, until I post something informative. I have my own little geeky dad sort of site too, over at binarydad.com.
This site won't be going away, so don't forget to come back here once in awhile too.
Standard Insurance building, downtown Portland.
Projected cans of beer + random objects = Fantastic montage
Just watch it.
Things are getting a little stale around here. As you can see, they are even moreso, now that I've moved this site to a different web host and gone back to the default templates for my blogging tool.
I've been working on a new design for this site, which actually started out as a redesign of Zoe's blog, until she decided she likes things just the way they are. It's a bit of a departure from what I've done in the past, but I'm excited about it, especially certain "dynamic" capabilities, which will be discussed in detail when the time comes.
Though there likely aren't a lot of you out there that read this much, I get bored with the way things look and this is something I've been wanting to do for some time. I think you'll enjoy it too!
By the way, there's actually a hint of things to come on Zoe's blog, though I won't say anything more than that...
As I sit here munching on some vague brand of tortilla chips, rather than eating a healthy dinner--or even cooking one for Isaac for that matter--I do so typing this post on a brand new 13" Macbook, something I've wanted since they came out, though I can't really explain or justify why. Wait, yes I can, it's a toy and I love toys.
I mean, for crying out loud, I already have an older PowerMac G5, still more than enough computer for what I do with it, and a huge LCD monitor (Zoe has my old, small 20" widescreen), but for some reason, I just had to have this thing. As Zoe always tells me, I always seem to get what I want. (Like she doesn't?)
I absolutely, positively love it. Unfortunately, like all my other toys, it's something else to spend even more money on...upgrades, accessories, etc. Oh, the agony.
Moving on to more important topics, since we moved nearly one year ago, we've been struggling with our other house, now a rental, yet remained uninhabited for nearly that entire time.
I struggled daily with repainting the interior in white, then weeks, then months, a little here, a little there, during which time I discovered that I'm nothing more than a novice painter--or at least one that has no idea what's involved in painting anything white. We finally hired some painters. They did in two days what I couldn't ever seem to finish.
Earlier last year, I ripped out the old patio slab, unfortunately, just a few months prior to deciding to move, and it remained a big empty hole for over a year.
I finally remedied that problem and built a deck. It turned out beautifully and only took me about five hours.
Not bad. Of course, all this only became possible with some much appreciated assistance from my grandparents. We are eternally grateful for their generosity. I can't say it enough.
Anyway, after replacing the rest of the interior doors, some final repairs and cleaning, an ad in the paper, and some interested phone calls, it is rented. Now someone else is paying the mortgage and it feels great.
The best thing about having renters though, is that I'm no longer a slave to the reparations on the other house and can finally move on to our home.
My first project was building a handrail for our front porch, six steep concrete stairs that my Gramma struggles to climb, though she's done it twice, albeit with help. This should make it a little easier.
It is a beautiful thing, I know. No applause please, just send money.
Oh yea, almost forgot, one last thing, the title of this post. We are expecting again. Yes, you read that right, we will have our third child in March of next year. An accident, really, but true nonetheless. We hope for a girl this time, but, well, that would just be wishful thinking...
I grew up in a very small town, oh, about 60 minutes or so south of where I presently reside today. At the time, St. Paul was a town of only about 310 people, at least according to the population sign, and I don't doubt that was far off. One grade school, one parochial school, one high school. One market for all your grocery needs, a hardware/farm store, couple of bars, and a bank. There may have been a few more businesses, but that was the extent of it at the time. You could buy firecrackers at the fireworks stand during 4th of July and I could buy cigarrettes for my mom at the market. The eighties. Good times.
I graduated in 1988, nearly 20 years ago now, in a class of about 17, if I remember correctly. Nine guys, eight girls...I think. In a town and school that size, everybody knows everyone, students know your absent from school before you do, and there's not much to do but sports. For B league -- yes, there is a B league -- we were champions of most sports, the few there were. You either played sports or went to the games. That was life.
After graduation, I never went back. I maybe visited my dad a few times while in college, but rarely, if ever, saw any classmates. I think a few may have gone off to college, maybe even Oregon State (my alma mater), but I never really knew. Life moved on and so did I.
Recently, I gave in to the MySpace phenomenon and joined the massive online community. I see it simply as a place for teens to interact, an extension of instant messaging, with a whole new world of issues and dangers. Regardless, several extended family members and some friends use it and it seemed a great way to interact with them and at the very least, a great way to meet chicks. Oh wait, I'm married. Too bad, ladies.
The great thing about MySpace is that so many people use it. A search for St Paul High yields several profiles, though most are of current students and alumni from recent years. Fortunately, I came across a fellow attendee, an '87 grad, who I knew somewhat. She was always nice to me and even danced with me at a high school dance when I was a freshman, a somewhat trivial event, but to a shy, insecure 14-year old, well, as silly as it sounds, let's just say that has always stuck in my head as one of the great moments in my high school career.
There's something very satisfying about reconnecting with old friends, acquaintances and classmates. Discussing the past is perhaps the best way to relive old times and for me, those memories have flooded back like it was just yesterday. Seeing familiar faces, seeing where life has taken people or where it's kept them. Plus it's a great way to rekindle some old friendships, start some friendships that could have been, or maybe were meant to be.
In the words of our old high school cheer, Here we go Buckaroos, here we go!
I really miss my mother. Really, really miss her. These last couple of weeks it's really crept up on me, like a mugger in a dark alley.
As we've followed along the controversy we inadvertently started on a seemingly favorite stomping-ground of hers (another story for another time), I've begun to reminisce. Reminisce of that woman in the kooky, white dress and frizzy hair that came to my wedding to see me marry my darling wife. Reminisce of that much different, much happier woman who was there for the birth of my first son, her first grandson.
Last night, I discovered some home movies I'd ripped from tape to my computer some time ago, and decided it was time to give them a permanent home on a few DVDs. Oh how I love iDVD! Anyway, as I poured through them, I couldn't help but spend some extra time watching the video of Isaac's birth, his entry and first few moments in this world captured by a gracious assistant. It's funny, as I remember it all, but not from that perspective.
There she stood, behind me, comforting me while I waited for that first cry from his immature lungs as the nurses examined him. The cord had been around his neck for a very short time and what worse way to worry a new father than to see a seemingly lifeless baby on the table. When it came moments later, I lost it -- but she was right there. When Zoe and I were too tired to even stay awake a moment longer, she stayed up with Isaac, likely holding him for most of the time. She seemed so happy to be there for us, for him.
That's much of the last I remember of her. It was only six short months later that she retreated from contact and we haven't heard from or seen her since. Not for the lack of trying though. We finally did exchange a couple of emails, but it was mostly her telling me how grown up I was and how I didn't need her anymore. In some ways, I think that may have been justification for her retreat.
I really do miss her. I miss the kooky dress, the hand on my shoulder. I wish she could see her two beautiful grandson's.
I wish I could see her again.
No, not that Mommy, not my darling wife, Mommy to my children. Mine. My mother. The woman who gave birth to me over three decades ago. Angela, Angie, Jade, Fox, SmugPugs, Shunghila, whatever name she has now.
Where is she? No, not physically, I know that part. I've even been there. Small house, quiet neighborhood, quiet town. No, I mean something else.
Outside of a few brief emails a couple of years ago, I haven't seen nor heard from her in four years. Four years. My own mother. Imagine that. It doesn't even bother me so much anymore, I've kind of got past the mother/son aspect of it, but what about my two boys, her grandkids? What about them? They've never seen her, never heard her voice, wouldn't "know her from Adam" (inside joke, doubt you'll get it), save for a few pictures and my own ramblings about her. They are important and I would like them to know who she is. Is that so much to ask?
Fortunately, we've been able to follow along with her, live vicariously through her if you will, via two avenues: her own mother, my grandmother, someone whom I'm quite close to and treasure immensely, who still talks to her, if only through her daughter's husband or written letters, and a little website known as Indianz.com, a gathering place for members of the Native American nation.
Obvious cultural contradictions aside, it's at least afforded us the luxury of some tiny glimpse into her otherwise unfamiliar existence. At least it's afforded us to "keep in touch" with her, if only on this virtual, lurker, troll level.
Will I regret talking about it here, laying out this dysfunction in my family for the whole world to see? Is this disrespectful of her?
Probably.
It seems like just yesterday that I posted here, but no, it was back in October. Let's see, that's four months, a long time, but not as long as some of the gaps have been. But I figured it was about time to play a little catch-up. Let's see, where to begin...
The Move
So back in September of last year, we bought a bigger house, 'cause Zoe wanted to foster and there was no way I could put up with another person in that small house of ours. Most people who do that sort of thing sell that other house, but no, in our dreams of financial wealth and independence, we decided that keeping and renting the house was the best.
So here we are, nearly six months later, with two mortgages and no renters. At least it's a great tax write-off. Or so we hope.
The Kid
After moving and settling in, if you can call it that, we started fostering classes. Seems like it was sometime in October of last year. Eight weeks of classes to prepare you for caring for someone else's child. At least that's better than the preparation we had for caring for our own.
Still, that process is a little more subjective and you learn as you go and they grow. With a foster kid, this little person is just thrown at you and you have to figure out some way to envelop them into the fold of your family. That isn't as easy as it may sound to some. Yea, some people foster and love it, have done it for years and will continue to do so. We discovered that we were not one of those people.
The Other Move
We gave it until January. We wanted to give the little guy a chance to settle in and give us some time to settle into him. Not much settling happened and things only seemed to get worse. Xander was not happy with the sudden shift in attention and it was extremely difficult to parent three children, one of whom was unfamiliar and required such constant supervision, we were left exhausted at the end of the day. We eventually realized that it as much as we wanted to help this young boy, it was unhealthy for our family. It was only a few days later that the little guy moved to a new foster home and we haven't heard of him since. I only wish the best for him.
Moonlighting
About a year ago, I created myself a little business name, with the idea that one day I'd quit my day job and go full-time with web design and development. I registered myself a domain, backyardmedia.com, and that was that. Zoe's recent foray into serious photography after purchasing our Nikon D70 reinspired me and I at least felt it was wise to establish a web site and a business presence and worry about the rest later. Probably not the best way to do it, but it worked for me.
A short while later, Zoe's sister helped land me some business, some consulting work, with her employers. They were interested in a little network infrastructure revamping and her relationship with them and me secured me the position. It was also the perfect opportunity for me to also give my design portfolio a boost with a commercial client, pro bono. Good for them, a free redesign of their present site, and good for me in that I get the job and the reference and that's good for business.
We'll see where it goes.
The Tree
A windy storm a couple of weeks ago ended the existence of a tree that nestled in the rear of our backyard. I would have thought a tree of it's magnitude could have survived such an event, but I'm just glad it wasn't taller or closer to the house or it would not have been pretty. I feel sorry for the small tree that lost it's own life in the process; it was just too close and too small to withstand the pressure. As if I didn't have enough projects on the books, now I have a 50 foot tree to deal with.
Gramma Louise
My grandmother just turned 95 years old last November. She's outlived every sibling, sad in it's own right, but I so treasure her presence, words cannot describe. I fear that I was closer to her sister, my great-aunt Marge, but she and I shared a special bond that went beyond mother or grandmother. That was years ago and she is gone now and all I have left is my dear Gramma Louise. I feel like I miss her like she's gone, when she is not, but that is perhaps because I do not talk to her enough and tell her how much I care about her.
I only wish that that one person we share in common was something she isn't. My mother effectively disappeared from the family picture, at least the one that I know of, nearly five years ago. She's not gone, not physically, but she is gone, at least for now. She's living some weird childless, parentless life with her weird husband, yet nearly lives off of the mother she claims doesn't exist. I'm not sure who I feel worse for, her or her mother. I haven't even really considered my own feelings, but that is likely because I no longer have any. I guess that's pretty sad itself.
My Boys
What can I say about them. They are two of the most precious gifts God has given me, aside from my wife. I relish every day I have with them. Seeing Xander mature from a uncoordinated, gibberish-speaking infant to this energetic, communicative toddler we have now is amazing. One of my favorite things is when I pick him up from day care once a week, as I treasure the excitement and joy he so exuberantly expresses when seeing me after such a long day without Daddy!
Isaac is nearly five and is a walking sponge. His questions are unending, but I know they only serve to enrich his mind and answer the many mysteries he sees before him as he matures. Sometimes though, it's just a tad annoying.
His love for Transformers has far exceeded any interest I ever had for anything, outside of computers. Perhaps it's a pathway to a career yet unknown. It's certainly a passion, unusual for someone so young. Next to TV (don't worry, he only watches PBS and Transformer movies), there's nothing he enjoys more.
Geez, wrap this thing up...
I suppose that's sufficient for now. I haven't "blogged" in some time, I really miss it. Too many projects, too little time.