It's different when it's your own...

She's here!  Meet Aili (pronounced "eye-lee"):

Thankfully "they" are correct...it really is different when it is your own.  No return policy needed.

Changing diapers isn't a chore.  Her cries aren't sending me running.  3am feedings aren't a drag....ok, maybe I'm stretching it a little with that last one.  In fact, her 3am feedings have deepened my already substantial appreciation of a good (strong) cup of coffee.

Actually, she's pretty neat.  And beautiful.  And laid-back.  And I just want to eat her up she's so darned cute.

OK, I admit it:  I'm smitten.

I really look forward to teaching her about this world.  Showing her the importance of playing in fields with our pup just watching the wind sweep the aside the clouds...being serenaded by the swish of the long grass and birds calling to each other.  Or merely how to choose the perfect skipping stone.  I want to teach her the wisdom of the Dali Lama, Henry Thoreau and Dr. Seuss. In short, I want to help guide her into a strong, independent, intelligent, kind, compassionate woman able to appreciate the beauty in life and deflect the ugly.

It's been two weeks since she was born.  We're trying to get into as much of a routine as possible.  Trying to figure her out a little since she didn't arrive with a manual (not that I read instructions anyway).  I suspect I'll be posting quite a bit about that as my ignorance of all things baby seems to amuse my friends.

I'd also like to create a bit of a tribute to Aili.  A history of her life that she can read (eventually read that is...we're working on our addition and multiplication tables currently) and marvel that she survived my attempts at being a good and responsible father.

I do feel a need to give a shout out to two blogs in particular that have served as inspiration for a blog chronicling Aili's life.  I've read this blog for awhile now as they are cruisers and he takes very good pics (two topics dear to my heart).  Another photography rich cruising blog (and now FB friend) is written by Cindy.  I recommend getting a cup of strong coffee, sitting down and checking them both out.

Welcome to the world Aili - your mom and I love you very much.

Changes are a coming...

It was a surprise - although perhaps shouldn't have been a shock.  We are expecting.


While we are both on board with the coming changes to our lives, I'm struggling a bit more with the sea change our lives will be taking.  I admit it:  I'm selfish.  I like to be able to do what I want when I want and I'd like to keep it that way.  I like making the steady progress we have towards financial goals (must be the planner in me):  to retire early with a paid off mortgage and travel the world on a sailboat.


The foundation of my world - as it currently is - is about to be swallowed up like it was built on quicksand.


Looks like I'm going to have to modify those goals/dreams a bit (a lot).  While doable - it'll take a lot more sacrifice, work and time.  This is what I'm struggling with.  That and (confession time) I'm not overly fond of kids.  Never was - even when I was a kid.


And forget about the whole childbirth thing.  When I was a volunteer EMT I'd offer to drive on maternity calls.  In my mind:  It just ain't right.  Something that big should not come out of there.  Can't help but think of Alien.


Don't get me wrong - I love my nieces and nephews...but I also like handing them back afterwards.  There is no "handing back" when it's your own.  Folks say "it's different when it's your own".  I'm counting on that as apparently there is no return policy.


We are in nesting mode.  Our home is a whirlwind of cleaning, organizing and minor home renovation projects.  I'm off to cross off a few items on the list....

Time time time....

The amazing thing about time is how fleeting it is.  How small and insignificant those grains of sand seem as they slide through the neck of the hour glass only to accumulate in a large mound underneath with incredible quickness.

So it is with amazement and not a little shame that I'm admitting to how much time has gone by since the last and only posts to this blog.  Experiencing life seems to interfere with the recording of it - a common theme I've read from other bloggers.  I will endeavor to change this.

To be sure of hitting the target, shoot

first and call whatever you hit the target.

I'm taking this advice to heart and considering a blog post every few months my new target.  See how successful I am?


Since the last entry, much has happened.  Summer seemed to be a non-event.  We didn't receive the long spells of blistering, unbearable heat that I recall from past summers.  It seemed to be muted...and wet.


Other than a freak snow that dumped a foot before the leaves could fall, winter likewise has struggled to make an appearance.  November exited stage left in the mid 60's.  Apparently the weird weather wreaked havoc with the fall foliage across New England.  The Maples really need that hard cold snap to turn the brilliant reds, oranges and peach colors the area is known for.  Instead the landscape was an underwhelming sea of yellows and browns.  Of course that freak snow storm I mentioned didn't help.  It caused severe damage to the trees as the snow clung to the leaves rather than falling between bare branches.  Now that the leaves have truly fallen the trees look like so many broken fingers reaching skyward.  The bright scars of bare wood where branches hang limply dot the otherwise wintry gray landscape.


Do you know what the doppler effect is?  The Doppler effect is named after Austrian physicist Christian Doppler who sought to describe the change in frequency of a wave for an observer moving relative to the source of the wave.  In simpler terms, it explains why the siren of an approaching ambulance gets higher as it approaches and then drops after it passes.  I mention this because this also describes the month of December.


December, with it's crush of holiday madness approaches like a freight train in the distance.  Slowly at first, steadily building and building to a crescendo of bight lights, merriment and good cheer only to quickly fade once it passes.  


We aren't particularly religious people (not at all in my case).  Our celebrations center on family with a sprinkling of your standard decoration for tradition's sake.  I particularly abhor the commercialism and shopping mania that so many seem to get wrapped up in (pun intended).  Shopping malls are decidedly out for me from November to January.  We rely on Secret Santa to handle the gift giving for the adults (limit $50 please...we don't want Santa to go into hock).  The nieces and nephews get somewhat more spoiled.  It keeps the holiday more sane and enjoyable in my opinion.


This year will more than likely be the last "low-key" holiday for us for reasons to be explained later.  We didn't even bother with putting up a tree this year.  The "greenie" in me can't quite accept killing a tree, decorate it for a month or so only to trash it soon thereafter before it becomes a fire hazard.  It just strikes me as wrong.  This year we considered a "fake" tree, but they are so...well...fake.  Of course that leaves decorating a live tree


A blogger I read, Cindy (and family) from Zach Aboard, has created an mish-mosh of holiday traditions - stemming from Christmas, Hanukkah, and Pagan (winter solstice) - to create one uniquely their own.  I like this.  A lot.  Perhaps in the years ahead we'll do something similar:  Winter Solstice with a smattering of Christmas thrown in for good measure.


Overall, 2011 was pretty good.  We managed to escape the daily grind and take a few vacations.   We made the pilgrimage to visit Mom/G in Florida to do a little sailing.  It is, more than likely, our last trip for a awhile though.  As I alluded to earlier, Changes are a coming.  L is pregnant and our little girl is due in March.

Away.

Sitting at my desk on an average March day - early afternoon.  City maintenance vehicles can be heard banging away on the street 11 floors below as I plod along with my work.  The squeak of some un-greased mechanical connection can be heard above the din that sounds suspiciously like an Osprey.

It sounds remarkably like the Ospreys we see nesting along the Florida Gulf coast when we visit there.  Would be really nice to be there....and not here.  Anywhere (almost) but here.

The cruising blogs I read daily and the wallpaper filling the screen with full sails and blue water just isn't cutting it.  I need to get away.  For awhile.

Winter walk

We've been a bit stir crazy lately.  Between work, (work and more work),  2 ft of snow confining us to the plowed/cleared pavement and our pup trying to make up for her yard being turned into a frozen tundra by running through the house - we were ready for some play time.  We took Kaia for a walk up to Fairfield Hills to see if the trails were cleared.  While I admire the town's optimism and enthusiasm in promoting outdoor activity, I'm thinking they might be a bit premature on little league spring training:

Play Ball!

This is more like it!!:

Not sure the phone camera captured it well, but the sky was darkening creating a terrific contrast with the white snow on the roof of one of the old buildings:

brrrrrrrrr......

1995-1996 was the snowiest winter in NY and CT.  According to the local meteorologist, we are on pace to match that.  Here are some pics to demonstrate:

The grill knobs were eventually buried by 27" of snow

Kaia wishes she was potty trained.




Now try the back stroke!



After a few weeks the snow is still deep.  The hard, icy crust let's Kaia run on top.



NYC in the morning

8:00 am, the day after Christmas. I'm sitting in the car in Spanish Harlem waiting for my wife to finish with her patient. She's a visiting nurse down here...a job I wouldn't - no - couldn't do. It takes a special person to leave the comfort of their suburban bed at 4:30 each morning, drive an hour in the dark to run around the project apartments in this place.

I don't usually play chauffeur, I do have my own job, but we're expecting a blizzard today. If I drive, she doesn't need to find an open meter for parking at each patient and can make her calls while I navigate the roadways. This means she gets done and out of the city quicker...and hopefully before the snow hits.

So here I sit, playing with my new Droid Incredible while she finishes inside. In case it hasn't come through by now, I hate this place. There are many reasons. I'm not a city guy. Far too many people in one place for my taste. Also - It's a hard and dirty place. A special kind of dirty. It's the kind of dirty you can't really call benign neglect. More like the dirty you get when all the smooth polished edges have eroded/corroded to rough black smudges. The kind you get when no one trusts anyone around them. The active neglect of fear and survival.

To be fair it's a lot better than it was a decade ago - both aesthetically and substantively. But to someone who prefers the quiet solitude of the woods, it is about as repulsive a place can get.

Many of my wife's patients have never left the city. It's not for lack of ability, although clearly sometimes there are financial reasons.  For the most part, I blame self confidence and, unfortunately, awareness of the world beyond their neighborhood. People seem to suffer from an pandemic of small dreams. I say that with sadness, not derision.  For being trapped, as they are for all intents and purposes, in a 1 square mile area.

I feel sadness that it would never occur to many here that exploring beyond their own neighborhood much less their own country is even possible.  Apparently, one person marveled that my wife lived so FAR away, while a train could deposit her at our doorstep in less time that it would take her to do a grocery run at the store down the block.

It is Christmas - not Thanksgiving - but I feel the need to express thanks for not only ending up on the sunny side of the economic divide, but more thankfully for having the ability to dream big...and forge my reality from those dreams.

I am proud of the work my wife does here. She's ridden in urine filled elevators, braved becoming a possible victim of crime, treated sometimes thankless patients and dealt with the bureaucracy of working for a healthcare agency for many years while I typically sit at a desk in suburbia. So who am I to complain about driving here one morning.

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