Oh the horror! Of waking in the middle of the night to tend a sickly child! This could be another poem, one of woe and duress, but I'll spare us all.

I should have anticipated it was going to be a rough night. All at once: the stereo was blaring, the oven was beeping, the child was crying, the cat was meowing, and the wife stopped mid-sentence during dinner and interjected: "This meal sucks."

And I heard that the Weaver family had taken ill. Colds all around? I suppose if you're a doctor, you're bound to bring your work home with you, sooner or later. Well, I feel for you guys. Our little lamb was sick the week we brought her home from the hospital, and I can't tell you how we feared that this is what parenthood would be like. Thankfully, it's not. Nowhere near.

We think it's the teething, which has the baggage of a thousand symptoms. I shouldn't complain too much, though, the Mrs. will come down on me for it -since she bears the brunt of the middle-of-the-night workload. She spent last night on the floor of the kid's room, making sure the little one didn't choke on her own saliva, and to dole out half-awake comfort and consolation when the fever wouldn't break and the curt, successive little moans would drone on unendingly. Poor Mrs. Ditchman. She awoke every few minutes to kill the ants crawling on her. But that's another story, another problem altogether. One to tackle this weekend, once and for all! (Again.)

This morning I took the baby workload, and the poor thing was hot! Hotter than AppleTV! I dosed her with some baby acetaminophen and the fever finally broke after an hour, but we had to spend that hour watching home movies on the AppleTV, of all things. She begs for it, screams "apulteeveeapulteevee!" and we have to cut her off and say NO! but she just can't get enough. It's kind of strange. Elmo I can understand. Little Einsteins? Sure. Curious George? Yeah. But home movies? As if I didn't see enough of them during the editing process. Now I have to watch the finished thing over and over and OVER...

Most filmmakers never watch their movies after they're finished. They've seen them more than anyone already, watched them again and again in their heads, and in all permutations, too. With different music, different shot order, different timing. Hitchcock claimed that actually making the films was the most boring part -he'd thought it through in his head so much, that by the time he got around to putting the film in the camera he was looking for something else to do. And every director knows the old moviemaking adage, "Films are never finished, they are only abandoned." It's as true with me as it is with Spielberg, though I'd argue there were a few of his he should have abandoned much earlier on.

Still, I should be grateful to have such a devoted audience. Unfortunately, she's more than devoted, she's obsessed. She's like a Trekkie. I think I have a greater understanding (finally!) of how William Shatner feels. Someone comes up to you in a restaurant and says, "Hey, I really enjoyed you in..." and it's cool, you know? But then you go out to your car and there are six people in costume touching your vehicle and drooling, they see you coming, one of them passes out, the rest begin to pant and chant Roddenberryan sacraments... I'd get upset too, I imagine.

It's fun, though. My wife came home with a new Elmo video yesterday. It's called "Elmo's Potty Time". This really engenders a lot of odd concepts, when you consider that Elmo is made of felt and has an arm up his underside for all of life's breath. Anyway, I'm looking forward to that one!

A Paean to Me and John Wilson

Oh brother, where art thou now?

Do you recall the impromptu days
Of trolling away from our church
Laughing on highways both trodden and lost?
The road unending would take us to friends
In other states, other lands, other third worlds.

Remember the wrong side of the road through Britainia?
And the edge of our own continent?
Places where one day we would return to be in each other's weddings
Only to go separate ways down the same path?

There were Pyramids and Stonehenge and Orleans on All Hallows Eve
And a desert where I refused to make you a sandwich.
And there was the Grand Canyon hidden in fog and snow
Cows sliding on ice in the divider
Another night in your car
And no fish.

Today it is the jokes that are in
But then it was a parade we were in
Uninvited, but welcomed with margaritas all the same.
The Goths with their matted hair and make-up
And you in your red birth-wig
Where you claimed to suddenly fit in.

And weren't we both in love with the same blonde girl
Who lived across town?
Who now lives across the country
In some other world
Down some other road
That resembles the one we're on now?
You with your children and I with mine
Still friends, despite that sandwich
And perhaps with more in common than ever.

I have it all on tape and film, nearly unrecognizable
Dusty video and negatives of us
Where I need some combination of technology old and new
To revive for a moment
That time where the future looked nothing like it does now.

Except that you are my friend in both futures.


For John Wilson, 9/6/07 - Today's his birthday

Thompson Announces: "The New iPods Are Here!"

Oh, brother. Such headlines. Shock and awe. An utter surprise. It would be nice to get some real news, like: when is Apple going to sell The Beatles at the iTunes Store, or upgrade their AppleTV operating system, or replace the crappy new glossy screen on the iMac for a nice matte one? Or how about something like Thompson actually staking out a position and engaging in debate? And did you know that Giuliani was once the mayor of New York and that he lowered the crime rate? Really. If I hear Romney say "Gosh!" one more time I'm going to rescind my vote of support due to the Huge Nerd factor. Mike Huckabee is looking better and better. And not just because he's a marathon runner.

So that's my take on the news of the day. Speaking of Huge Nerds, I was on the web this morning and noticed that the Steve Jobs press conference was about to start so I tuned in to a live webcast, which I'd never done before. Wow, was that ever boring! Pushing [refresh] every ten seconds is not my idea of a good time. And if I had done a shot of beer every time Jobs said "iPod" or "iPhone" I would've been hammered before breakfast. And yes, wow, the iPhone now has ringtones for sale! Half the teenagers in America peed their pants when that was announced. At one point Steve Jobs actually used the word "ringtonable" which is easily the height of Geekdom. Also, the price of the iPhone dropped by $200! Am I glad I didn't buy one last week? Yes. Am I going to buy one next week? No. Why not? Still too expensive.

And I'm still waiting it out for my new computer, even though I think I have enough money saved up. Apple keeps saying they're going to upgrade their OS sometime soon, and I know that that's $150 I can save myself since it comes installed on the Macs when you buy them. Oh, brother.

Look at that picture of Fred Thompson up above! I'm trying to remember what it is I'm reminded of...

Is it this:


Or is it this:


No, no, I think it's this:



That's it! He's Tor from Plan 9 From Outer Space!

Okay, okay. You're right. I shouldn't be so mean.

Who says an actor can't be president?

Waterfall

Well, it happened again.

What's weird is this time I knew it was going to happen, and I wanted to stop it -but I didn't.

House is the best show on television.

I've been sleepy all day. My eyes were droopy at work. Up and down the ladder, up and down... The heat didn't bother me as much today for some reason, maybe I'm getting used to it, but today it was the sunlight. The light! And I had sunglasses on! At one point I held both hands up in front of my face to block the light from hitting me. I just couldn't take it. I was just so sleepy.

Which is kind of strange, because once I get going at work, I move. And move, and move. I don't want to stop moving, and I want to be done and out of there. I know this side of my personality resonates in my running marathons, as well.

But last night the little one woke up around midnight, just crying. Crying and crying like something was really wrong. I got up to manage her, feeble parent as I am -I wanted the Mrs. to sleep and I was awake at the computer- and when I went in to tend to her, I was suddenly helpless. The tears were flowing, and they seemed angry tears -she's a toddler now, and it wasn't a baby cry. At first I thought it was merely a bad dream and I stroked her back and talked to her in soothing tones, remembering the Cardinal Rule to not pick up a baby when she wakes in the night (she wants you then for sure, you know, and then she will never go back down) but I could tell it was something more than the unsavory mists of sleep. It was pretty hot, and easily a contributing factor, but there was obviously some kind of nagging pain. I guessed it was the teething again -she's got some big ones coming in right now, the last and the worst- and I fumbled around in the dark for the baby Tylenol, sugary droplets the kids love almost as much as the parents love their stopping crying. And that's when Mommy arrived, no doubt figuring I'd failed again, which I had. She said she'd dosed her some Tylenol earlier, so I should come up with something else. And there was nothing else, just the crying and crying...

Something was wrong. Your mind races. You consider everything she'd eaten in the past twelve hours. You suddenly remember the moments of the day when she was out of your sight and what could have gone wrong then? And she could have fallen. She could have hit her head. She might have a concussion. We should check her pupils. Did she get into the bathroom cabinet again? Did she suck on the bottles of hair sculpting gel again? Does it hurt her when you press on her stomach? Now you're awake.

When Mommy can't settle her down, you really start to worry. We've long since acquiesced on the not-picking-her-up rule by this time and we are rocking her and singing to her, we've even brought her to our bedroom, which ordinarily we are loathe to do at night, but it doesn't help in the slightest. The child just cries and cries, she can't get comfortable and something is wrong. That's all. Something is Wrong. So Mommy and Daddy pull out the last resort: the pacifier. I actually had to go look for it, as we just don't use it anymore. I finally found it in the dining room, at the bottom of the baby bag, sticky, with dust and hair on it. When we gave it to her, she blithely accepted it, like an old friend with whom she wondered if she'd still get along. It didn't really take. They'd grown apart.

After some more time of worrying, crying, wondering if I should call a doctor, the Little Ditchman was anxious and wouldn't stop moving. The look on her tiny face was one of helpless misery. You couldn't hold her still, which is very disturbing when you're trying to calm a child, and so we set her down on the floor. She looked at us both, stood up, still crying, and got her bearings. Mommy and Daddy needed a clue as to what to do next, so we just watched her crying there, with this old pacifier in her mouth. She looked around the room, and grabbed Mommy's hand, then she turned and yanked Mommy into the hallway. It was dark, and everyone was pretty tired, so there was a certain amount of stumbling. She pulled Mommy down the hall and into her room, where she went to her crib.

She wanted to go back to bed.

And that was it. I think it all lasted about 45 minutes. Of course, it seemed to drag us on forever, but she was back in her bed. There was a little bit more crying, and a minor sense of relief on our part, but I didn't get back to sleep for a while. We laid there in our own bed and talked some, still unsure of the episode, trying to determine what was wrong, what was even going on. But the kid felt bad. She wanted us. And then she wanted to go back to sleep. That's all.

She woke us up again at some woeful, pre-dawn hour and Mrs. Ditchman is a light enough sleeper to be able to handle it, but I ended up having one of those mornings where a whole pot of coffee just doesn't do it and nothing will. Last night's crisis was quickly replaced by an all new crisis around 7:30am when I heard a KERPLASH and saw my wife run panicking out into the yard. Seems the kid had made her way outside somehow and thrown herself headlong into yesterday's fun, the kiddie pool. More crying.

And what good was I through all this? Well, if I had dropped face first into the kiddie pool first thing this morning, I doubt it would've worked any better than the coffee.

So I was nodding off as we were all saying our goodnights tonight, and I was thinking, hoping, praying, DEAR GOD I COULD USE SOME SLEEP and I went down to sit on the couch and House came on. Immediately I knew: click it off and go to bed, or you'll get sucked in. This always happens, dude. You know it. Just reach over and grab the remote. Now... Click. It. Off.

It was another stirring episode. And even though the formula is essentially the same in every show, (and how interesting can ANOTHER primetime medical drama be?) I still think it's the best written show on television. And tonight here was yet another episode with a suffering child (actually, a baby this time) and I don't know what it is about me, but ever since the Little Ditchman was born I just can't bear the thought of suffering children. Oh sure, it always bothered me, but now I know for sure I could kill another person if they touched my family. I can't take these stories of lost, abused, neglected, and stolen children anymore -I really just can't stomach them. And here you have House and the lead character is trying to diagnose, as usual, a suffering mother and child. I nearly lost it.

It's as if, when your child is born, the room you're in is muscled wider and higher, like The Hulk transforming out of his clothes. Your highs are higher, your fears are greater, and you become altogether more fierce and more sensitive than you have ever known yourself to be. The universe has grown, and that quite literally. Life moves ever onward, carving its way through your pride, however hard you try to resist.

A week from Friday, it will be a year and half since my world changed forever. I can't remember the world without her, what it was like before, who I was back then. I have moved downstream, past a point where I will never be able to turn back. Funny thing is, I have no interest in ever returning, not if I can ever help it.

Isn't Every Day Labor Day?

If you've ever wondered what it was we have to thank Grover Cleveland for, it's Labor Day. If it wasn't for him, we'd be celebrating May Day, which is what the communists celebrate, and I imagine we might still be in the Cold War as a result.

Millions of brutal deaths aside, anything cold sounds nice right about now. The family wisely spent the Labor Day afternoon at someone else's house today. Someone sober and thoughtful. Someone smart. Someone who has an air conditioner. And a pool. Someone like Great Aunt Barbara, who enjoys a good champagne pomegranate cocktail.

One is not supposed to wear white after Labor Day. Makes sense to me. In Canada, one is not supposed to wear Green after Remembrance Day, and that's just plain outrageous. Also, one is supposed to wear a straw cowboy hat up until Labor Day, and a felt hat after that and until Memorial Day. This is just plain bogus as all of my felt hats are white.

I love any holiday where you're actually supposed to do the opposite of what the day is named after. Labor Day, you take the day off. Terrific! I know there's some joke in here about not facing east on Easter, but I'm just not feeling it right now.

My brother, Dain, has enrolled in a college course! It's some business class. I asked him what he's learned so far (it's only been one class) and he explained to me the difference between a "job" and a "career", which is good to know. Unfortunately, his definition of a career required me to go back to college, administrate responsibility to a bunch of other people, (these are called "employees") and then demand I make a lot more money. So tomorrow I go back to my job.

Speaking of higher education, the Little Ditchman has a new word. (You heard it here first, folks! -as I compete with the Mrs. for the blogspace on our daughter's most recent cuteness.) The word is awesome!

No, that's the word! "AWESOME!" except it sounds more like "Aiysumm", which is a much better word. We're not really sure how she picked it up -it must have been something we were saying. The other day we were showing her a new toy and we said "Look! Isn't that fun!" and she said, "Fun!" and then one of us said, "Awesome!" and then she said, "Aiysumm!" So it's a crack up. Whenever you say "fun", she say's "aiysumm". I wish there was some way to do those little sound bite things on the blog like Lileks does, then I'd record her and play it for you on a loop. But I can't, so you'll just have to come over.

A couple other words tossed around the table (by the adults) today were "inertia" and "abstract". "Inertia" is one of those, you-know-it-when-you-see-it sort of things, so it was hard to grasp, and then "abstract" just couldn't be explained concretely. We all think we're such smart adults until we have to describe a word with other words, which seems to come so naturally to our kid. Oh, give me the good old days of being a kid. Something was either "fun" or it wasn't, and if it was "fun" it was "awesome". Interestingly, "fun" is generally an abstract concept and "inertia" usually has something to do with the "fun" taking place, but when you were a kid if you were at all aware of it, you weren't having fun at all.

So the inertia of another work week has us within its grasp, and guess what? Tomorrow is already hump day! Aiysumm!

It's Not the Heat, It's the Humility

I wasn't going to let it get to me today.

The kid, she was up before the sun and she was gonna let it know where to shine it. Laying in bed, I canceled my plans to work on the Great Re-Wiring -going in the attic on a day like this would have been suicide. I got up and got dressed in my swimsuit and the loosest, thinest shirt I had in my wardrobe. I got the windows open and the fans on before my first cup of coffee, and after that I made a nice salsa verde with ingredients fresh from the garden. Then I went down to the store to stock up on beer and a bunch of other cool things like halibut for dinner. After the kid woke from her noon nap, we filled the kiddie pool with the hose, turned on the sprinklers, donned our sunscreen and sunglasses, and made a pitcher of champagne pomegranate cocktails. Then I played some cheerful pop tunes on the outdoor speaker system (and, yes, I do mean "speaker" in the singular.) No sir, it wasn't gonna get us today. Never underestimate the all-surpassing power of a cheerful pop tune.

There's a few things in life you just can't change. Consider the Forces of Nature. You're just gonna have to roll with them, figure out the best way to get comfortable, and then make it happen, all the while preparing for the worst. Incidentally, there was an earthquake this morning. Not a big one, but a Reminder. Mrs. Ditchman yelled down from the upstairs, "Did you feel that!?" and we turned on the news, and there it was. No, Nature's not our friend. Any tree-hugger who thinks so, should spend some time naked in the Sierra with no Monticelli cabin for miles and see how long they last.

It's the Forces of Human Nature that are the real problem in life, and you're gonna have to humble yourself significantly to work through those. I've been well-prepared and alone in the Sierra for days on end myself, and I know how those demons surface all the same. But we're not in the Sierra! We've got a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs and champagne pomegranate cocktails -so suck it up! We're only gonna be here for a while, so we better make the most of it, do well, and enjoy each other! This life is really great if you just shut up about the lame stuff.

If You Saw a Heat Wave, Would You Wave Back?

Yes, it's hot enough for me. Oh, I should probably shut up about it already, but it's hot. And by "hot" I mean just all-around irritatingly hot. It's not hot like Las Vegas/Death Valley hot, I actually like that kind of heat -dry, searing, sunny heat. No, this hot is like a walking illness. It's like bathing in a day-old soup. You just can't get comfortable, can't take off enough clothes, always sticky. We don't have air conditioning, but I walked past the thermostat (which read in the nineties all day) and noticed that there was a switch on it that I could set to "Cool", if I wanted. I knew it wouldn't do anything and I thought about switching it over just for the psychological effect, but then it occurred to me that a tiny microwatt of power might be utilized in the attempt to turn on the invisible air conditioner, and I didn't want even that much more heat in the house. San Diego Gas and Electric asked all their customers to conserve energy by setting their thermostats to 78 degrees. 78! I dream of 78! And when the sun goes down finally, it's hotter in your house than it is outside. Man. Days like these you wish you lived in Lemon Grove, Best Climate On Earth.

My wife mentioned we might want to seriously consider a "Whole House Fan" and I immediately pictured a 50'x50' box fan plugged into the main power grid, erected out in the street, blocking traffic. That sounds good. Set it to "High". But no, she means the big fan that sucks all the air out of your house and up into the attic where hot air belongs. I guess. At this point, the heat is dimming any distant notion of comfort. The poor Little Ditchman tonight just refused to put her diaper on when she got out of the bath. Who can blame her? What would you do if someone forced you to wear a diaper in this heat?

I think the heat has affected one of my hard drives. Of course, it's the one with all the music on it, and it seems the data that holds the music to all of Elvis Presley's number one hits has been corrupted. Not that I wanted to listen to "Burning Love" all day, but it's screwing with the AppleTV. Yes, yes, I hear you smirking in the distance. Turns out the AppleTV is having trouble syncing everything because of it. It tries and tries and tries, all the while bogging down my computer, so I can't get anything else done. Of course, the AppleTV has a processor in it that's twice as fast as my computer, so I guess I should be glad it works at all.

Another thing, this AppleTV gets frickin' HOT! And you can't turn it off! That's right, there's no on/off switch on this thing. Genius! Apple is so innovative and forward thinking, you really have to hand it to them on this one. But seriously, the thing gets so hot they should've made it in the shape of a coffee mug coaster. At one point today in my feverish binge to get the house cooled by at least a single degree, I seriously considered the possibility that it was the AppleTV that was causing the heatwave. That, or the 500 watt metal halide bulb I use on my aquarium. And we've been out of beer all week. Either way, I was dying here. My poor little kid was just slumped on the couch muttering, "Elmo... elmo... elmo..." I gave her some ice.

So when my wife came home from work I fired up the barbecue, but only because I wasn't about to work the stove top and oven inside. Actually, it probably would've been fine to just suck on the frozen chicken thighs for dinner, right out of the freezer.

And we recently got new sheets for our bed, too, and a nice, cushy comforter (!) so I'm not looking forward to not sleeping tonight. I think I'd rather just lay here on the hardwood floor. "Look, honey! I think I found the lowest spot in the house!"

Anyway, as I lay there in my boxer shorts and pathetically complain through it all, the cat saunters in and just looks at me like, you think you got it bad?