huckleberry finn

Thanks to everyone for all the visits, calls, emails, comments, and good wishes. After delivery, we moved to another wing of the hospital that had no wireless signal. Since this was an unacceptable situation, we had words with the management and took our little show home in a huff.

Okay, just kidding. We are home now, but not because of our wireless addiction. Aside from needing a nap after graciously accepting visitors all day and eating and crying all night, all is well with Finn and his parents.

Feast your eyes on the huckleberry.

welcome to the world, sleepy little boy

Finnian Peter
5:14pm
11.16.07
6lbs 3oz
19 inches
purple feet
lots of black curly hair
happy family

UPDATE: Scratch that bit about curly hair. After his first bath, the hair uncurled and has now settled down into what his mother is describing as "muppet fur."

news flash: we've been admitted

Good morning. We're at the hospital. As we speak, sweet wife is hooked up to an antibiotic IV and wrapping up a medical history Q & A with our nurse Diane. Our publicist is out in the lobby holding a press conference with the jackals and paparazzi.

We had our weekly appointment this morning and were routed right over to Labor & Delivery. 4 cm dilation, real live contractions, the whole shebang. There was momentary doubt about whether the baby was in the right head-down position, but a quick ultrasound clarified that. So here we go.

Our second-floor room overlooks the pebbled roof of United's emergency room entrance. We're literally right behind the pointy decorative triangle.

Kelly is enjoying a hearty breakfast of red jello.

you(terus)tube: a pre-enactment

This stunning, lushly filmed cinematic masterpiece envisions and interrogates our preconceptions of conception and beyond, showing us the gritty realities of life in utero. Sample Bear turns in a convincing Teddy Award-nominated performance as Baby Schwillig.

this week is making us stupid.

This week is making us stupid.

So said Kelly while sitting in the car in the driveway, right after I asked her to pull the cord or the lever or the cantilever or whatever the hell you pull to make the car park and stay parked. The parking brake.

On tonight's agenda: figure out how to use the breast pump, that extractor of pure, nutritious motherly goodness. Just to keep things equitable in the gender role department, I'll be down in the basement cleaning cobwebs with the shop-vac.

Word through the grapevine is that the nesting effect is spreading to grandparents and aunts and uncles. Members of the Nesters Auxiliary, keep up the good work. There is much painting and cleaning to be done.

spooky action at a distance

You may have noticed our babyboy poll lurking there in the sidebar. Please cast your vote if you haven’t already.

The poll is symptomatic of a larger problem: that is, while we have a solid lock on girl names, the boy names are proving to be slippery and elusive (note to self: “Morpheus” aint bad). A certain family member has floated a controversial gender-assignment theory that may shed some light on our indecision. The theory agues that, while in utero and right up to the moment of birth, babies are just floating, glowing balls of gender-indeterminate energy, and that their physical selves aren’t fully expressed until they’re directly observed. This could be seen as a kind of gestational derivative of Bell’s Theorem (note to self: add “Bell” to list), or related to the notion of quantum entanglement---what Einstein called “spooky action at a distance.” Call it epistemological wishy-washiness, or just-in-time cosmic decision-making.

"Einstein". . . that's not bad, either.

The ball-of-energy theory further proposes that, with concentration and serious body english, we can influence whether the baby turns out to be a girl or boy. This opens up a whole Pan/Pandora's box of questions about getting what you wish for versus wishing for what you get. We will studiously avoid that whole debate and instead concentrate on coming up with more baby names. I'm really liking Einstein.

nester for hire

Well, a certain someone woke up today bursting with energy and perky as hell. After three solid days of nonstop nesting, you'd think Kelly would be tired. . . but apparently not. Since we've now completely exhausted the nesting possibilities in our little house (baby books shelved, floors vacuumed, dog bathed, etc.), it's time to move this show to work. She plans to de- and reconstruct her cubicle today, plus much cleaning, polishing, and organizing. After her own cube is in perfect order, she'll move on to her coworkers'.

We should harness this powerful, elemental force and use it for profit. Premium nesting services at a reasonable fee. Act now! This offer may only be available for a short time.

all quiet on the westside front

Well. Nothing much happening, other than that we've been sleeping with a kind of quiet desperation. We're beginning to think Friday was just the baby's warning shot across our bow. HEY! I'M COMING! GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER! 36 hours later, our act is shakily holding together (pay no attention to the duct tape and twine, please). The crib is assembled, the laundry's done, the leaves are raked, the bags are packed.

A confession. We went to BabiesRUs last night to return some stuff and buy some other stuff, and not only didn't the world end, it was actually quite pleasant. We were greeted by a friendly woman at the registry desk who helpfully directed us to Guest Services. This ran counter to our expectations. We thought that upon entering the store we'd be immediately caught in a man-trap net dropped from the ceiling, surrounded by chanting associates in gowns and vestments embroidered with cute giraffes and duckies and led by an assistant manager trainee named Greg who would imperiously wave a ceremonial rattle-shaped BabiesRUs sceptre, and carted away to a featureless, fluorescent-lit back room where we'd be relentlessly programmed into buying carloads of unnecessary plastic crap. But it wasn't like that at all. Greg was very nice and patient; he only made us repeat the BabiesRUs Creed ("I believe in the sanctity of child restraint safety systems, in the holy trinity of Graco, Evenflo, and Boppy; I believe in the accessorization of infants and toddlers. . . ") twenty times before releasing us, instead of the usual fifty recitations. We'll be going back.

birthwatch

. . . and welcome back to BirthWatch 2007. The preceding message was brought to you by Evenflo.

Not much action to report at the moment. After last night's fireworks and frenzy of nesting behavior, birthin' progress has ground to a halt. As Markle Sparkle says, we've been downgraded to Def-Con 2. We're learning a lot by watching This Old House reruns. Especially thrilling: the profile gauge, which allows the user to instantly trace the outlines of whatever curvy or irregular shape you have handy. No shortage of curviness around here.

The crib brigade swooped to the rescue earlier with a home delivery. The cats would like to extend their deep appreciation for what they expect will become their sumptuous new sleeping quarters.

The dog has been on high alert all day. Will the suspense never end?

Our trusty friend Sample Bear has offered to fill in as understudy for carseat practice. Looking good, Sample Bear.

Now we're watching the Weapons of Independence Armageddon Destruction Day Channel's Saturday Night Movie. In which a hurtling asteroid threatens our very American way of life, and when the fed's best and brightest are stymied, our planet's only hope is a misfit team of roughneck drillers led by Harry Stamper.

Listen up, baby. You have many life lessons to learn from this man.

"Six billion people on the planet. Why'd you call me?"

Check your math, Bruce. That's six billion and one.

dog park chastity

Yesterday marked our triumphant, soggy return to the dog park. We were not alone in thinking it was a good day to come back; the sun was out and tennis balls were flying into the river, leaping dogs following close behind. You can judge the crowd intensity by the number of cars parked along the frontage road; it rises and falls like the EQ bar on a stereo. On a really busy day the line of cars spikes, taking up all the parking meters and extending all the way to the turnaround. Yesterday's crowd signal strength was about 75%.

We've been on hiatus since the 35W bridge collapsed on August 1. That's two and a half difficult months of dog park abstinence.

POSTSCRIPT: Be advised, dear reader and dogparker: After hiking around by the river and filling your pantcuffs with, oh, 2-3 pounds of beach sand, it's not a good idea to crawl back into bed for a nap. Best to take off the pants first. Word to the wise.

note to self

Two new water purifier filters are in the drawer by the sink.

Later, though, because of the lead poisoning, you will not remember this.

so smart

The basement is a musty, cool, dog-free paradise, an oasis of comfort on hot summer days. So what does the cat do yesterday, the hottest day of the year? She gets up bright and early and sneaks upstairs, braving fangy, slobbery danger, so she can spend the day lounging in the 98 degree front bedroom.

do you follow poppy?

We don't know much about Poppy other than that she's the second-tri model in the prenatal yoga video, but I for one am willing to follow her to the ends of the earth. She's a marvel of flexibility and strength. Straight spine, smooth movements, clear serene eyes untroubled by the ethical implications of having frozen pizza TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW. As if trapped in a kind of digital amber, Poppy will forever be just starting to show.

Poppy exhales, and we exhale with her. Inhale, sit straight, exhale. Bring your hands together at your heart.

We'll stick with Poppy until the beginning of the third trimester, when we'll drop her like a hot potato and follow Britta.

Sorry for the silence, we've been distracted...

Baby Schwillig arriving late November 2007.

wind/unwind

damn you, luscious walnuts

. . . quoth Kelly while persuading an overabundance of walnuts to crowd into a paucity of jar.

We have learned a few things lately. But mostly we've just bought things. Household purchases of note include:

• an electric clothes dryer (insert shout-out to Kenmore here) from our gently-used appliance pals in Inver Grove Heights (the appliances are gently-used, not the appliance dudes; those guys show signs of rougher handling);
• the time and expertise of a nice young man from Husky Electric Rescue to install a 220v outlet for the new dryer (that's TWICE the voltage at HALF the price);
• new wires and ignition coil for the Mighty Golf (installed by bloody-knuckled YT this afternoon in a Mississippi Gorge-fueled hurricane---to no avail, so something else must be broken, which is why the car is now in queue at Metric Auto awaiting professional diagnosis and care) after it died unexpectedly in a primo curbside parking spot at Jerabek's;
• large-breed-sized dog bed, aka The Fun Island;
• a pair of Keens with orange piping (sharp!);
• faux-Arts&Crafts bedroom set (tallboy dresser, shortgirl dresser, headboard, footboard, mirror) from the West St. Paul Antique Emporium;
• an attitude adjustment, mister.
  

remodeling

In her own canine version of a home makeover show, the dog has been busy all winter remodeling the insides of our cars. Let's see. What does this backseat need? A bold layer of gray fur is a great way to stamp it with that special Weimaranery imprimatur. Spice up the view through those plain clear windows with a varnish of slobber. Nose prints are a quirky accent! And dab a few muddy pawprints throughout the space to lend an aura of lively action. And home viewers, you can only access this last sensory garnish if you're a SniffCast subscriber---we'll complete the experience with a spray of Eau de Hamstercage No. 7.

In other remodeling news:

We helped Venessa complete her move yesterday. She and Felix are now installed in a sunny corner apartment in downtown Minneapolis. Home at last. Many happy returns expected to Casa V+F.

NWA parachuted-dropped a series of large cardboard boxes into the blue skies over Westside late last week. Specially-trained, G-force-tolerant squirrel pilots wearing brown coveralls and crashproof helmets rode down with the packages, pulling lanyards and guywires, adjusting to minor fluctuations in windspeed, and finally landing gently in the snowdrifts on Jen's back deck. Touchdown. Jen ordered a breakfast nook from the Skymall catalog, and here it is:


Some assembly was required, but this was ably accomplished in next to no time by Jen and SteveO. Those squirrels booked it for the nearest Best Western lounge as soon as their little claws hit the ground. The nook fits perfectly. It is cozy. It beckons us for tea. It invites us to sit on its sturdy planks and discuss life's absurdities, like farmhouse breakfast nooks dropping out of the sky.

Four rubber washers are the only things that remain between us and the first test run of the newly-installed washing machine. Stay tuned.

why it's a bad idea to wear your yaktrax in a puddle of gasoline

lunar eclipse

Trucked on out to a snowy field tonight for a slice of red moon pie.

tower of power

The literal height of leisure is 11 inches. And since it was exactly at sea level, the elevation of leisure is also 11 inches.

The Tower of Power was constructed on Playa Marias in Rincon, Puerto Rico. Tower by Sweet Wifey DesignBuild LLC; artless time-lapse reconstruction by YT.