This may reveal a 12-year-old mentality, but fear not, I have no shame in writing, apparently . . .

Being clever and intentionally rude at the same time is an admirable thing, and so I greeted with a laugh the news of the release this week of the debut CD from Goblin Cock. As humorous as that is, in the commercial world it takes a special someone to be clever and unintentionally rude and manage to get away with it, and hence the giggles I could hardly suppress when I found at Target last night the words “Gobblin’ Sack” emblazoned on a big bag of some kind of snack items (so distracted was I by that name that I didn’t even manage to notice what was packaged in the “Gobblin’ Sack.") Maybe it’s just me, but I’m not seeing the term as a compound noun but rather as a verb and an object.

Pair this with the fact that only a short while earlier I’d mentioned to Alissa the existence of the Goblin Cock album (whose album are you really must see,) and that on the route we take to Target we pass a road named “Sack,” which rarely fails to elicit some kind of childish response from me, and, well . . . yeah, I’m mentally about 12 years old.

When I microwave something at work in a container, I will carry the then-hot food back to my desk using a few napkins to dampen the heat. When I get to my desk, I will throw the top-most napkin away because it had been touching the bottom of the container - which had been touching the microwave. No matter how clean the microwave appears, I still don’t trust that some invisible food chunks and/or disease elements have not attached themselves to the bottom of my container, and then transferred themselves to my napkin, which would then transfer to my face when I need to wipe myself clean (at which point the situation would then be ironic.) Even then, I’m still a little suspicious of that second napkin . . .

Due to a catastrophic Windows failure last weekend, I have lost the email addresses of anyone who has written to me. If you’d like to hear from me, please feel free to email me here.

Gentleman, I can see that it’s time for a little talk again. I don’t like to have to do this, but you leave me no choice.

Guys, come on, if you’re going to use a stall to do your standing-up peeing, please at least aim for the toilet. There are no excuses for excess spillage outside of the toilet. If you’re going to be sloppy, take it to the urinal, please. Better yet, lay out one of those nice protective tissue rings and have a seat - you deserve a rest, don’t you? Take a few minutes for yourself. You’ll thank yourself later, and I’ll thank you immediately for not peeing all over the damn floor!

Amanda is caught being fascinated by a mobile of furry bears over her playpen.

In the past week, we’ve seen a sudden shift in Amanda from passively observing to actively reacting to things around her in a way she never had. Aside from just watching the world around her, the most fun has been getting her to not only show off a glorious, gummy smile, often urged on by a game of “nose/chin” wherein I gently poke first her nose, then her chin (which seems to delight her,) but to make some obvious early attempts at laughter. They’re primitive attempts, to be sure, but her choppy squeals and gurgles leave no doubt that she’s taking part in some sort of simple game. This doesn’t last long - her attention span is only so long - but those few minutes of smiling and laughing are guaranteed to be the highlight of every day.

Click through to my Flickr account to see more stuff - I’ve uploaded some digital art I’ve done over the years as well as the previous photos of Amanda.

I have another personal first to announce: in the past month or so, I have installed Windows XP FIVE times. Three times for the first incarnation of my dad’s new computer (which was doomed from the start due to a defective motherboard - boy, was that fun,) once yesterday for my dad’s real new computer, which went quite smoothly . . . and then again today - in my computer (the one I’m typing on right now, in fact.) This last one was not by choice.

If you’ve noticed a lack of posting lately, it’s because most of my nights the past week and a half have been dealing with a slowly disintegrating computer, or spending time with Amanda (much more preferable, obviously.) It all began when I installed a DVD-viewing program, then Adobe Illustrator (to show you how little illustration work I do at home, I managed to go over a year without having Illustrator on my computer) . . . and then all hell broke loose. Last year when I put together this computer, I allocated 10gb to a Windows-only partition - meant only for Windows and programs, no files, etc. In that year, even with constant vigilance about keeping this partition free of crap, I managed to fill up that 10gb with programs and probably a billion massive Windows Updates. So when I hit the magic number of 200mb free space, warning messages about space issues abounded and having started a nearly complete birth announcement (yes, I know, it’s getting a little late for that!) I couldn’t really uninstall the monster that is Illustrator. So I offed as many smaller programs that I could, hoping that I could swing Windows back to believing it had enough drive space to operate. Time and time again, I found myself facing the same warning message about space - nothing would stop Windows’ attempt to fill every nook and cranny of my drive. I managed to hold it at bay, but I knew the outcome was inevitable: I would have to not only reinstall Windows, but find homes for all the files on the other partitions of that drive. When I woke up the other day and found Windows frozen, I knew it was dire. I moved two of my partitions onto an empty drive and hoped for the best.

When I got up this morning, I came out to check email, rip some CDs, and do some reading. Windows wasn’t having any of it - everything was frozen, a small space-warning pop-up staring me as if to say “ha-ha, I told you so.” I hard rebooted, figuring it would come back like the other day, but it was not to be: the computer greeted me with a black screen, and even Safe Mode wouldn’t boot. I had everything I desperately needed saved, so I grabbed my XP install disc and spent about an hour massaging my computer back to shape. A couple hours after that, I had most of the vital Windows Updates installed and had even gotten a few of my most-used applications installed again. Everything seemed good - Windows was clean and new, fast like it should be, and I had lots of space to fill up with crap. When I went to grab some files from one of the moved partitions, however, I realized that I never made sure the other drive actually had all those files. It didn’t - they were long gone. Lucky for me, however, the most important files were saved - dozens of shots of Amanda that hadn’t been secured on a DVD yet, along with less-fun things like our tax returns, resumes, etc.

So, here I am, 12 hours later, having spent most of the day behind one computer (my dad’s) or another (mine) trying to get everything back to normal. Don’t doubt for a minute how enticing Linux is sounding right now . . .

Come on. This cannot be a serious attempt at fashion design. This has to be the work of some guy who sat around with his buddies and drank (or, hey, smoked) a few too many Buds and went, “Dude, you know what would be totally awesome? If I pretended to be a designer and just covered a chick in nylon and put some old hats on her thighs.”

“Under the nylon, dude!”

“Yeah, man!”

“Cover her head, too, dude!”

“Yeah, totally! And I’m going to leave a bunch of material at her shoulders like she normally carries some golf balls there.”

I shall remain blissfully fashion-ignorant, thank you.

Alissa’s family is from Chicago, and they’re rabid White Sox fans. So, with them reaching the playoffs, Alissa saw fit to don Amanda in the little uniform she got as a gift long before she was born - it didn’t matter what sex she was, she was going to be a proud White Sox fan no matter what.

License plate: MRSPOOH. The conversation in my head went like this: “Mr. Spooh? What kind of name is that?” A few moments of contemplation. “OH! Mrs. Pooh.” Another moment of pregnant silence in my head. “But still . . . ”

1. A girl wearing a Santa cap
2. Best bumper sticker ever: “The #1 reason to procrastinate: 1.           ”

Not seen on the way to work, but I’m going to be sure to keep an eye out for Kate Moss, who checked into a rehab clinic in Wickenberg, which is northwest of Phoenix. Personally, I hope the first place Kate stopped when she arrived here was, say, a Wendy’s to pick up a bunch of nuggets. A bunch. Girl needs to eat!

I attempted a little photoshoot with Amanda today in an attempt to see if we could get something for announcements ourselves without having to go to a professional (because, you know, that costs money.) Background aside, I’m really happy with a couple of the shots I managed to capture, including this one where Amanda has definitely had enough. I’ve got another incredible shot, but I’m keeping that one close until we decide if we’re going to use it or not - why spoil the surprise for the announcement recipients?

My diaper-changing record has been set this week. In the span of two minutes, three diapers were changed. Off comes one dirty diaper, wipe bottom clean, and just as I’m lifting her rear-end to strap on a new one, a fresh shipment arrives at the back door. Luckily I was close enough, and had diaper in hand, to catch the unloading and avert a gigantic mess on the table (something that unfortunately did happen to Alissa the other day.) So into the trash that one went, another wipe clean, and on with another diaper.

It wasn’t but 10 minutes later that she required another diaper, but the record-setting window had already closed. I hoping this records stands for quite a while.

And now, presenting a Post That Was Originally An Email But It Became So Fantastic It Deserved An Audience . . .

Dear Wife,

Why did we see Godzilla when it came out? We saw that in theaters. It was crap! But we had to have known how bad that would be beforehand, right? Why did we actually pay to see that? I’m really torn up about this - and I know it was me who actually decided to take us to it. Why didn’t you talk sense into me? I actually feel damaged by having wasted our time on that pile o’ turd.

After reading this post about movies he’d seen in which he was one of the only people in the theater, and one of them was Godzilla 2000, I have to know why we fell for Godzilla. I know we didn’t fall for Godzilla 2000 - we’d already been burned once by the big green beast - but the fact remains we did fall for the Matthew Broderick-driven Godzilla. I mean, didn’t the fact that it was an action movie starring Matthew Broderick tip us off that something was distinctly wrong with this movie? Ferris Bueller fighting a giant lizard? Come on!

I know you’re the smarter of us, why did you let me corrupt you like this?

Shamefully yours,
Tom

Amanda is turning out to be as picky as her parents - no surprise there, of course. Following the successful initiation of being bottle-fed last week, and after Saturday night’s game where we left her with the in-laws (and where she proceeded to eat like we starve her, apparently,) we found out that not just any old nipple-shaped item will soothe.

Last night, after many hours awake, hoping she would finally fall asleep, and after quite a few breast-feedings, Alissa just had to give up - there’s only so many hours mom can handle feeding, and Alissa’s heroic efforts were draining her in more ways than one. It was clear that Amanda wasn’t hungry anymore - how could she be after eating over and over again for half the night? - but that she simply wanted something to do. The thing is, being three weeks old and all, she really doesn’t have many options on what to do. There’s sleeping - that’s preferable, and there’s eating, which is preferrable for a while, and there’s crying, which is decidedly not preferable. There’s also a hidden fourth option that she exercises every once in a while, which is “crying and flailing limbs about completely at random.” Amanda chose this option last night.

In our ER experience a couple weeks ago, the doctor and nurses suggested a pacifier to soothe her when nothing else would. And, as with a plumber, car mechanic, etc., the simplest solution they offer is the one that works in their shop . . . until you need it to work on your own. So, fussy as she was last night, we shoved (delicately) first one pacifier in her mouth, which she promptly spat out (Alissa reports that it actually was truly spat out and had a trajectory like a pop-fly ball - fast and narrow. Another type simply worked its way out of her mouth, even if we tried gently holding it in there. She wasn’t having any of it.

Finally, I figured, “hey, if she loves feeding from the bottle, why not try one of those nipples?” I grabbed one, stuck it in her mouth, and she happily sucked away at it. The only problem: being an open-nipple, she was gorging herself on air, which is not a good thing unless you really dig lots of burping-action. The solution was simple - plug it with a fingertip. Unfortunately, she really enjoyed this and just wanted to suck at the nipple . . . for a long time. And so I sat until after midnight, one arm propping her up, the other angled oddly so I could keep a finger blocking the nipple. She wasn’t tired, but she was content. After a while, Alissa simply had to take her because I couldn’t keep my eyes open much longer - and I had a long drive to and from work in the morning.

The success of this makeshift pacifier means I’m going to have to adapt one of the bottle-nipples for this use. I’m not sure what to block the nipple hole with that can’t be sucked into her mouth, but I’m going to figure out a way to attach a strap . . .

Amanda had her first bottle-feeding tonight, in preparation for a night away from mommy and daddy - Saturday, an ASU football game with Alissa’s dad and brother, who have season tickets. The big concern with breast-feeding is that babies may not take to switching between the natural nipple and the decidedly unnatural one on the bottle, but Amanda seems to have handled it just fine. So far. The night is young, and there are several feedings to go before dawn. We’ll see.

I wish I could say some kind of pattern or habit has formed with regards to feeding and sleeping, but alas it’s just too early for such regimented behavior. We have great nights, where Amanda sleeps almost the entire night save for a single feeding, and we have “bad” nights, where she insists on doing absolutely nothing - not eating, not sleeping, and certainly not being quiet. For hours. Unfortunately, on these nights, I have to find some way to sleep - daddy needs to be able to drive both to and from work, nearly one hour each way, entirely awake. I hate to say it, but sleep has beckoned me numerous times this week while deep in moving traffic. This is not a good thing.

The best thing about this first week back at work has been my shifted work schedule. I’ve forced myself to wake up slightly earlier than usual and get myself going much quicker than usual so I can get to work as close to 7 am as possible. I generally have wandered between 7:15 and 7:30, depending on traffic, but that’s okay. I work through lunch, and then I’m generally out about 3:30 or so. This allows me to come home and actually feel like I’ve got some sort of home life. That’s a rather novel concept, it seems. I’ll do what I can to enjoy it while it lasts . . .

I got it from both ends just a bit ago: I picked up Amanda from her bassinette and with a splat, she shot forth a high-velocity milk-laden burp from her mouth, showering her (including her own hair!,) my shirt, my arm, and Alissa’s foot a couple feet away. I then sat down with her, laid her on my lap, and with a muffled but quite loud bang, a gritty mustard-yellow wad of crap went flying out of her diaper in one little area where the diaper happened to have a sizable breach due to an amazing set of coincidences I hope never happen again. And let me tell you, this weird yellow stuff is more like vomit than crap, and it sure does cling to clothing.

The good news: I didn’t freak out, which is what I figured would happen the first time one of these fabled diaper-blowout incidents occured. It was really more of a resigned “damn, that’s a mess” than a freak out. Sorry to disappoint you all.

I just have to take a moment and, yo, give props to the homies at Newegg. Every order I’ve ever placed with them has arrived with lightning speed. It’s truly amazing. Not only that, but their prices blow away any local stores you may have as an option.

This week I ordered up nearly everything needed to assemble a brand new, super-fast computer for my dad. I placed this order using their standard Fedex 3-day shipping Monday night - a holiday. By Tuesday afternoon I had tracking numbers for two of the three shipments of components, the third coming a short while later. The first two shipments arrived Wednesday - one full day after having shipped out. The other will be arriving today (it comes from New Jersey, but still . . . ) Of course, I somehow managed to completely forget to buy a heatsink for the AMD Sempron processor I ordered, so it’s off to Fry’s Electronics today to pick one up.

For myself, I ordered a fan-cooled external hard-drive enclosure that connects via USB port last night, as I purchased a dirt-cheap 250gb hard drive from CompUSA last weekend on a special sale - $80! Why do I need this? Because the hard drive that currently houses some 17,894 songs ripped from 1584 albums of my CD collection is rapidly filling up - and I have a LOT more CDs to go. It’s kind of frightening to commit this much time and all those songs to something that can so easily die, but I’ve only had one really bad experience with a hard drive, and that was the death of one last summer that had seen a lot of use over many years with very infrequent defragmenting (a big no-no, admittedly.) Even though I’ve built a handful of computers, I somehow had never learned that you can only have two hard drives in a standard computer. I have three - the drive Windows is housed on along with various files, a second with my mp3s, and now this new drive. I want to keep all of them, even though Itunes cannot make use of a music library spread over multiple harddrives. (Why, I can’t imagine - couldn’t they just have designed it to work this way?!) Unfortunately, for whatever reason, whoever it is that’s responsible for saying what computers can and can’t do decided that no one would ever want to have more than two hard drives. So I’m forced to go external, but it’s kind of cool - I’ll be able to remove that drive and take it to anyone who might want to grab something off of it, rather than relying upon convoluted means by which to get songs off my Ipod and onto their computers.

So if you ever need computer parts and can wait three days, buy from Newegg. And no, I’m not being compensated for this endorsement.

But not for me. The bloody nose I noted here turned into a full-on sinus infection while we were at the hospital, and for whatever reason my body couldn’t expel it. Now, nearly two weeks later, after having gone to the doctor this afternoon, I have bronchitis from it, for which he prescribed an antibiotic called Levaquin. I popped my one-a-day at dinner tonight. It’s now 2 am, and I haven’t slept a wink. I thought maybe I was just suffering from an overactive mind tonight, but when Amanda woke up for feeding a bit ago, I realized how strange this is - I’ve been exhausted all week, why not tonight?

For the past few hours, I’ve laid in bed unable to shut my brain off. Thoughts just go round and round in my head, almost obsessively. I got so wound up in thinking about taking the garbage out that when Amanda woke up, that was the first thing I did after changing her. Then I sat down here and looked up “Levaquin sleepless” and here’s what I found, among other things. Sleepless, restless, anxious . . . yep, that’s me tonight. Wonderful! So I’m not sure what’s better - horrible coughing fits that leave me doubled over in pain, or never sleeping again. “Poison was the cure,” for sure.