Saturday, July 31, 2010

Comin Atcha From The Depths of the Diaper


I have not blogged in a bit. Nor have I written. Nor have I finished any of my career-oriented tasks within any more of an hour before they are due. Nor have I slept.

On the good side, though, nobody is literally drinking my bodily fluids that I know of. Chrissy often complains that "it's tough being a cow," to which I reply, "unutterably so."

I DO write, though. I tutor a kid who likes creative writing and we write together and swap stories. I get paid by the hour for it. My life is awesome.

This is not one of those stories. This is, instead, a story that awriter penned at a writing-group session, about me.

All Spencer wanted was to sleep. Between Samwise's 1:00 AM arias and Adia's new tendency to play Godzilla Death Metal Screamy Time at 5:00 in the morning, he wasn't getting more than one hour of sleep each night. It was starting to wear on him.

"Opium!" said Victorian Spider-Man, who looked exactly like modern Spider-Man, except he wore a black top hat, gloves and a monocle. "Opium will quiet those little scamps straightaway!"

"No, Victorian Spider-Man," Spencer said. "Opium will just warp their little minds and send them to rehab at age 5. What do you think, Housewife Superman?"

Housewife Superman adjusted his floral apron. "Send them to a different planet where they will be raised by a kindly elderly couple and grow up to be superheroes! Or give them warm milk."

"They don't have superpowers, Mrs. Kent. Tony Stark?"

Tony Stark gave him a skeptical look over the rim of his gin and tonic. "Do I really look like someone you'd want advice for your kids from?"

"Why not?"

Tony tossed back his drink. "I'd put them in an ice chamber and take them out when they were twenty-five."

A tiny voice from behind asked, "Daddy, why are you talking to the rice maker?"

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

It Is Done And Cannot Be Undone

More or less.

He's Samwise, for good or bad. No doubt much of the Internet is pleased and a few of you are horrified. This is my favorite text on the subject: "When he is twenty, what will happen when he's trying to pick up on a girl and she finds out he is named after a hobbit?"

To the sender I point out: Sam is the only one of those hobbits who snatched himself a lady.

Just in case, though, I am starting a money jar to change his name when he's older if he really wants it.

I spent so much of my life trying to be "important." I wanted praise and recognition and I wanted to be brilliant and better than everyone.

And yet my literary hero was totally humble and even a little dumb, but he did what his upper-class, literate, smart and informed buddy couldn't do.

I want Sam to understand that you don't have to be brilliant, you just have to be brave and stouthearted.

IN OTHER AWESOME NEWS: This weekend was much better than it had any right to be, considering we were out of the house, stuck in Bothell, while the landlady is having the lead paint removed. I got to go to a Clarion party with the awesome criada . I would like to reiterate to everyone there that I Am Not A Cool Guy. I got a new contract position at work helping to design the curriculum for some online courses, which is really cool.

ANNNNND.... I got into Viable Paradise for this year along with aforementioned criada and plunderpuss . Represent, Bellingham! W00t!

Friday, July 2, 2010

Sam(wise?) German Ellsworth

I started on Tuesday to write a blog post about how the baby was eight days overdue. It was snarkily called "Honey, BP Called And They Want Your Cervix To Plug The Oil Spill."

As of 8:00 that night, Chrissy proved that blog post unnecessary. After a small intervention by the midwives to help open said cervix, five hours of intense labor produced a nine-pound boy at 8 PM. True to his hobbit namesake, he proceeded to have two dinners, four midnight snacks, and three breakfasts.

Adia is much happier about having a brother than we thought. She wanted a sister and she was also afraid of getting replaced. But she is fascinated with Sam and constantly wants to hold him.

We are still waffling on whether or not to go all the way and name him Samwise. I love the idea of a special name no one else has that is based on a noble little hobbit. On the other hand, his teacher will read it aloud on the first day of school and somebody just might say "stupid fat hobbit!"

Of course, that would make said tormentor a schizophrenic fish-eating jewelry-addicted goblin.

What do you guys think? To Wise or not to Wise?