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slicing stratosphere

Somewhere up there...
Slicing stratosphere on the way home, another tight connection so fingers crossed that the luggage meets us there. Today would be the day my travel-size baby powder runs out, sticky unpowdered balls for an eight hour cross-country trek, what could be better? Laptop’s got enough battery to last the entire flight, but I’ll get tired of it before then. Debating even opening it, don’t really have anything to write, but I wanted to listen to the Andrew Bird album that I’ve been singing all morning. Had a good time in Florida, always do. Will be glad to get back home though, if for nothing more than to try and get tied into the work thing for a short seven weeks before Lil’ Chino arrives.

Speaking of babies, which, when am I not, lately… that little girl is on her way, is coming. I see it occupy more of Sharaun’s thoughts day by day – bringing it also to the front of mine. We start our parenting classes the week after we get back, once a week for six weeks – Tuesday nights for a couple hours. There, I’m supposing we’ll learn to be parents. Picking up skills like shooshing and swaddling and tummy-timing. I’m excited, actually, to go to the classes… even though they’re not free, or anything. I’m sure we’ll learn a thing or two about a thing or two, and that can’t be bad. But, deep down, I’ve talked previously about how I think this thing is just “meant” to work… being that we’ve made it from caveman to here, y’know.

Man these kind of entries are boring: “This is what we did, this is what we’re doing, blah, blah, baby, blah.” It’s easy to complain about the junior-high journal style of writing, but harder to actually do something original; so you don’t, you shoot for just writing instead, and leave lofty goals of creativity for rare moments of inspiration rather than the norm. Plodding on then, faults well known.

Sharaun got me a great little book for Christmas, 101 Things A Good Dad Should Know. It’s got lots of neat little tidbits of knowledge that all dads should have stowed away. Of course, how to throw a curveball and swing a bat are in there… sigh. Not that our daughter will be pitching curveballs that much, but her mom did play softball. What’s the fear, you ask? People, I have no skills; can’t swing a bat, can’t throw a ball. OK, so I can do both, so can a monkey, but I don’t do either correctly. Never did learn, was always laughed at when I tried, so never put much into it. In the book, there’s and illustration of the good dad, we’ll call him Dad Gallant, hanging a tennis ball from a garage rafter for swinging practice. Me, we’ll call me Dad Goofus, I hang a tennis ball from the garage rafter to know precisely how far to pull in the car. I don’t want to be Dad Goofus. Sure, I can teach you how to find the North Star, complete the square, and balance a checkbook – but I’m a wreck on the field. You’ll still love me, right?

I’ve finally decided I’m getting an iPod. I’ve wanted one now for nigh on two years, but so far had been holding off for a larger capacity future model. Yesterday, I just up and decided I’m getting one – perhaps my last vanity purchase before Lil’ Chino gets here. I want the 60GB model, could care less for the video on that tiny screen, but I won’t mind having it, y’know, just in case. While my collection is twice over 60GB and always growing, I think I can pare it down to a good “purist” base that will be nice to have in a pocket. I always rationalize large purchases with some kind of “plus and minus” model where I comb through the last couple months finances for expenses that could’ve been. When I “find” money that could’ve been spent but wasn’t, I then feel better about unexpected cash outflux. In this case, our skymile-funded trip home for Christmas is the plus to my iPod minus. Sane, right?

Before I go, a couple recent disappointments, one expected, one not. Got dragged to a movie with Sharaun and an old friend of ours the other night, The Family Stone. Please, for the love of Jesus y’all, don’t go see this steaming pile. It was, honestly, one of the worst things I’ve seen in a loooong while. At least the old friend sprung for tickets, so I wasn’t lighter in the wallet for the slop. I hadn’t expected much, but I was shocked and awed and how little I got. Second, finally got the Test Icicles album I’ve been wanting since their 1st single did so well. It blows. Don’t waste your money, you’re better off buying this brilliant Andrew Bird record and falling asleep in the sun.

‘Night.

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gummy smiles

I think I've used this before.
Been finding it hard to write this week, hence the picture cop-out yesterday. And, while on the subject, in regards to yesterday’s entry – I was reminded by my friend Bob that I should’ve postcripted the “Florida is busted and full of tumbleweeds” story with a note about how they’ve also recently suffered through four, count ’em, four, hurricanes. And yeah, he’s right – four hurricanes in one season is bound to leave some broken marquees and un-done repairs. So, while you can’t really blame the retail exodus on hurricanes, I am willing to allow that maybe the state of brokedowness may be somewhat skewed by it. Lets move on.

Upgraded to WordPress 2.0 Monday night and it went off without a hitch. I love the new backend, things are simpler and I don’t have to switch around so much between different backend tabs to get a post up. Things seem a bit faster too, front and back, and all my plugins seem to be working post-upgrade as well. Plus, they’ve integrated the database-backup plugin I loved and some hard-core spam blocking technology – two big pluses. And, maybe the best new feature, the post preview is now an embedded frame of your actual blog, using your stylesheets and layout, so you can see what the thing will actually look like once it’s up. If you’re a blogger, or you’ve been thinking about starting a blog, perhaps keeping a list of ideas around for the eventuality, you gotta get the WordPress.

Last night I left Sharaun in bed as I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. After brushing, I decided to clean up my beard-line (my skin gets mad irritated when I shave, so I like to give it an overnighter to shape up), so the teeth-brushing turned out longer than I intended. When I finally got back to the room, I saw Sharaun lying on her side in bed, sobbing. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “I dunno… nothing…” came the teary reply. I climbed into bed and put my arms around her and asked again, “What’s wrong?” “I don’t know… I’m just afraid I’m not going to be a good mom, there’s so much I don’t know.” I chuckled. After some consoling and empathizing, things were fine again. I think spending so much time around our new-parent friends, watching them take care of their kids and all that’s involved, got her a little anxious. Truth be told, there is a lot involved in the whole deal. But, I think, for me at least, seeing all our peers managing happy young’ns was actually good for my confidence – us kids can do it, are capable. Maybe I’m naive, but I’m not too nervous – far more impatient and ready to dive in than anything. Stress is one thing, and I know she’s feeling a good bit of it late, but confidence is another – and I think we’ve both got plenty of that. I expect we’ll each have a freak out or two in the next coming months, par for the course.

One more thing before I kick rocks. I have no idea what prompted the comment assault on my old entry where I reconciled myself to my new allergy, but I did find it pretty amusing. It makes me smile to think someone (yeah, they were all from the same person) took the time to write that much, for whatever reason. Thanks.

Goodnight.

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variations on a theme

The theme.
Another Christmas done gone. I have this theory, that Christmas really won’t be “magical” again until our daughter is old enough to where it’s magical to her. I figure three of four years old is probably ideal… from then until about ten maybe. You know, the ages where you can barely sleep on Christmas eve you’re so excited imagining playing with your new Ewok Village or Snake Mountain. My memorable Christmases are all boy-centric, my brother and I rarely pined for dollhouses or Barbie dolls – so having a daughter to impress will be something new for me. But, I’m sure it’s the same girl or boy… Christmas is freakin’ awesome for kids. Where was I going with this? Oh, right – a Christmas recap. Gifting went well, I got a bunch of stuff I needed and some stuff I didn’t even know I wanted. Two of my favorite gifts, even though I’m not a DVD-whore or chronic movie-watcher, are the The Goonies and Stand By Me DVDs. I do enjoy having a “canonical” collection of favorite movies and shows, and those two work well to round out my “coming of age” section. My in-laws are excellent gift-givers, so it’s good lootin’ at their place.

Every time we come to Florida, well, more specifically, our hometown in Florida, I’m amazed how broken-down it looks. I’ve written about it before, actually. I know not all Florida is the same, but it seems like people just don’t invest here – they simply reuse. Buildings go through three or four stores without so much as a coat of paint or changed sign. Broken things don’t get fixed, they just stay broken and you get used to them. Old stores leave and new ones don’t replace them, leaving huge plazas once holding tens of retailers as just wasted space. I started writing this paragraph this morning, and decided it would be loads better with pictures, black and white ones at that. So, I commandeered the mother-in-law’s car, grabbed the camera, and headed out to snap some supporting imagery. Here’s what I got:

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Used to be a Sears, then turned into an “antiques carnival.” Now it’s bingo.

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Row of mostly empty shops. I took my traffic safety class here once upon a time.

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Tagged up side of a trailer hawking Adult Toys and XXX Videos.

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Once buildings go empty, they stay empty.

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More of the same.

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Formerly the Winn Dixie grocery store where I had my 3rd job, a bagger and cart-collector. The first of two of these stores that now stand vacant.

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More empty storefront. The corner store was a drugstore when I was a kid, we stole cigarettes by the carton from the easily-distracted geriatric staff.

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Boarded-up Wendys, broken marquee and drive-thru awning still in place.

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Used to be a K-Mart when I was a kid, now it’s just another huge empty warehouse.

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The Garden Center at what used to be K-Mart.

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This Goodings grocery store opened when I was in middle school, and had closed before I left for college. It’s in the same plaza as the K-Mart above.

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Fresh paint doesn’t make it any less abandoned.

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Another mothballed Garden Center across town, this one alongside what used to be a Wal Mart.

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Space spaces everywhere, and not a car to park. The faded facade of the old Wal Mart.

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This McDonalds is actually still open, but I thought the damaged, yet unrepaired, sign was worth a picture.

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You can still see where the foam lettering once protected this convenience store’s paint from the sun, leaving ghostly faded text offering money orders, lotto, and ice.

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The Van Winkle motel, which, in fairness, is also still operational – just old.

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My favorite picture of the bunch. Only your imagination limits what coulda once been on this marquee and in the store, it’s all dead now.

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Another huge store left to rot in the Florida sun.

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And yet another busted marquee, wasted advertising space.

I had planned to write more, but we got home late and I’m more ready to sleep than ready to write. Last full day in Florida tomorrow, then back to CA for the new year.

Goodnight folks.

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mr. miles

Book's late.
Near the end of our Denver to Orlando leg of the flight to Florida, one of the flight attendants stopped by our Economy Plus exit row aisle and turned to me, “Well Mr. Miles, is this your last flight of the year?” Somewhat surprised, I replied, “Yeah, but this one isn’t business… how’d you know I have a lot of miles?” “We know things,” he responded, “they let us know when the 100ks or million-milers are on board.” I can’t explain to you how awesome this made me feel. Status, baby; notoriety, son. Somewhere, on that dot-matrix printed flight manifest that shows passenger names, seat locations, and who wants kosher or vegetarian meals – there’s a little asterisk or “100k” next to my name. And I had chalked up the extra snacks, attention, and cups of water offered as we boarded to a particularly good flight crew. Next time I’m gonna expect dark-skinned bikini-clad women dropping rose petals in front of me as I take my seat. Right on.

Merry Christmas y’all!!

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baby math

Piece by infinitely small piece.
I’ll give you an idea of how my “the baby’s coming soon” math has been going lately: When we get back to California, it’ll almost be January – and you know how quickly a month goes by. The baby will be full term before January’s even over, and then, it’ll be February. If the doctors are right, Lil’ Chino will arrive the third week of that second month – but she can “safely” arrive anytime after January 22nd. January 22nd is one month from tomorrow, and you know how quickly a month goes by. Right now, one month (even though it’s actually two) seems like next week to me. I keep thinking we’re late making the “hospital bag” we’re supposed to take when everything goes down, late furnishing and painting the nursery, late. To think, all this writing about our coming daughter and I’ve not once yet mentioned the name we’ve chosen – that’s a conscious thing I suppose… maybe too personal while she’s still “baking” or something.

Being a complete ass of a music snob myself, I got a big kick out of reading the fazed reader comments on Pitchfork’s Top 50 of 2005 list. I love the outrage over the obscurity and snobbery, the incredulous “Where was Staind?”and “Who the FUCK is Sufjan Stevens?!” type comments. Apparently, this is “gay ass yuppie” indie music that “has no balls.” Maybe they’re right. Kyle and I were talking the other day about the amount of pretentiousness involved in the indie scene, an issue which he’s more passionate about than I am. I’ve always not-so-secretly liked the elitism of listening to music that’s good but unknown, liked the crosseyed looks I got when mentioning who I saw in concert last night. In the last year though, it seems to me that the public, or the indie, or both, have been more accepting of each other. With Death Cab and the Decemberists signing to the majors, and more mainstream/indie crossover onto radio and indie-snob “best of” lists, it seems like something’s moving in the right direction. I maintain that I don’t like this music simply because it’s obscure, but it’s a hard line to maintain when nothing that isn’t obscure doesn’t make my list. I guess, as much as I criticize the Top 40 crowd for “missing” all the other good music out there, so could I be criticized for burying my head in the sand and missing potentially good payola-motivated mainstream stuff. But, we all know that’s BS; mainstream blows.

I still need to pick up a couple more things for Sharaun for Christmas, but other than that I plan to stay away from shopping altogether. Sharaun, on the other hand, has been shopping, I think, every day since we’ve been here. This is unfortunate for my reputation with her, since every time I decline to accompany her while she shops, she gets upset. Now, for me, I’d much rather sit and home and do absolutely nothing than go shopping. It still confounds me that she continues to ask me along anyway, I nearly always decline, and, on the rare occasion when I don’t – I only make her miserable with my impatience and disinterest. You’d think that, with the combination of the joint-shopping experience being miserable and my obvious distaste for it, she’d stop asking. But no, she still asks, and I still get called “lazy” because I’d rather stay home. I seriously hate just “shopping” as a leisure activity, with the exceptions of music, book, or electronics stores. I don’t know why that’s so hard to understand, seems simple to me. Anyway, I’ll run out once more and then be done with the pre-holiday rush… then I can revel in my laziness.

I guess this is good enough for an entry, if I write more I’ll bin it for tomorrow. Now to spellcheck and publish, goodnight.

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time again

Pizza time!
Time in Florida going well, been relaxing, eating, relaxing, and eating. Today spent some time hanging out with old friends and catching up, which was good. Tomorrow we’re spending time with Sharaun’s grandmother, Thursday’s booked, and Friday’s filling up too. Today I decided to have go number two at the “one liner” idea; they’re actually pretty fun (and easy) to write.

Sharaun says I act differently when I’m around my “old” friends than I do around my current friends. I think we just talk more about “old” stuff since that’s what we have most in common these days; maybe that’s what she means.

This Andrew Bird album is making for some great “pregnant Christmas in Florida” memories.

I’m really happy with how my beard is shaping up, now I just want it to hurry up and get all Bible-thick and bushy.

I’ve always wondered why A&M colleges are predominantly black. Anyone know?

With Lil’ Chino on the way, and it being Christmastime, I find myself thinking forward three years and getting excited about assembling dollhouses and Barbie toys at midnight on Christmas Eve.

Despite my pre-Christmas worries, I think I managed to do pretty well with Sharaun’s gifts in my limited, last-minute shopping.

Sharaun has also cheered my beard, but is dead-against the Bible-thick thing.

Goodnight folks.

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tiny little shoes

Wash up.
Florida, I always feel relaxed here. The air feels cleaner, I can tell almost immediately – as inhale that first lungfull walking down the jetway. Maybe it’s the humidity that just gives the air a different breathing quality, I don’t know. Florida just makes me feel “slowed down,” better paced – simply not so rushed. Related to this, I’ve decided that I’m not gonna put myself on any rigorous writing schedule, but rather will write as I have time. May make for a spotty week, but that’s the way it goes. At least the in-laws finally broke down and got broadband and wireless…

Well, as the top indie rags begin to eke out their 2005 best-of lists, I’ve been watching with a keen eye – plotting ans scheming to find myself some new tunes I may have formerly forsaken. My number one album discovered this way so far is the Andrew Bird LP I first mentioned Friday. It’s great, I’d recommend listening to this haunting track to get an idea of what to expect if you’re considering this one. Finding an album like this really isn’t the norm for me though, there are definitely albums that seem to be scored consistently high on most lists that I just can’t get into, even after several tries. The warbley Anthony and the Johnstons is one, and I’m still not convinced the Okkervil River or latest Spoon are really worth all the fuss. But seriously, this Andrew Bird effort is exceptional.

Sharaun’s friends gave her a surprise baby shower, our first day in Florida. Seeing these little outfits, with their tiny little shoes and super-soft fabrics, it’s beginning to all sink in. People have said that it never really seems “real” until the moment you hold your new baby in your arms. I believe that, because it still seems all a bit unreal to me right now – even holding these miniature shoes in the palm of one hand, it’s still just a movement in my wife’s belly that we talk to and think about. It’s hard to “love” something you’ve never seen, what I do feel right now is more of this protectionist thing – overly concerned about my wife’s wellbeing and safety. Inside that vessel is something I can’t wait to see, so I suppose it makes sense to want to shelter it. Anyway, I’ve come to the conclusion that baby showers are great. I enjoy sifting through the resulting loot probably as much as Sharaun does. Baby monitors, diaper bags, bottles with little rubber nipples, pink blankets and floaty bath toys. I tell you, a guy could really get into this.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what I want my daughter’s “first song” to be. I never had a “first song,” but my friend Kyle’s dad remembered what song was playing in the car when they brought him home from the hospital – and I always liked the idea of knowing that. In my case, I’d like to choose the song and have it ready to do. I’ve been thinking about what that should be. Sure, Beatles may be obvious, given my history… but I’m actually thinking I may go more obscure. Is it selfish to want to make it one of my favorite tracks of all time? It’s gotta be something quiet, softish I think, maybe something acoustic. I think to myself that I’d like it to be some selection from one of my favorite albums of all time, but then I remember that I’ve never really sat down and tried to rank all-time best albums – and I’m back to thumbing through my mental rolodex. We’ll see, I’m sure I’ll figure something out before the time comes.

Goodnight folks, until later on.