Still can't get over that I'm responsible for the above. Mom is doing great. I get to be a gentleman - help her out of cars, use the oven cleaner, and such - she gets to eat all the fun stuff. Getting real used to that thing snuggling up to me when I'm prone. It is now the source of all my powers.
I'm supposed to submit my architecture for the birth plan this weekend. Let's hope she doesn't come early. Heard tonight that babies come when there's a full moon.
Cooked for the first time in the new place, really, Saturday night. Did some damage on multiple fronts:
We had Trey over for eats, took me three hours to make a pretty simple meal - this because I couldn't find all my gear. But once I got it rolling, worked out pretty good. Dishwasher really helps offset my free-form vessel style.
After dinner, the upstairs neighbors started partying at about 2AM - bad tunes, lots of stomping. We figure payback will be murder once the howler arrives. No idea why the forty somethings have embraced Paul Van Dyk and the Oakenfold, but nothing a little Mastodon can't shut down.
Saw Forgetting Sarah Marshall yesterday, which I'm already forgetting.
I think we're 8-9 weeks out. Hoping the baby comes early so the A-man can see the reformed POLVO, but could be wishful thinking.
Baby very active, mostly at night, which is helpful. Doesn't help things either when you are awoken by WILDCATS screaming outside your window at 4AM. Seriously, wildcats, the feral / mascot kind.
I've been signed up a for breast feeding class.
Baby shower #1 in the books, trove of pink flavored loot in the coat room. Thank you ladies. I was asked for gifting suggestions in advance, I see no evidence of compliance, nor season one of the WIRE in the rolly bag. In any case, I think the event was a roaring success. My own weekend less so, total fog induction circa bar 5 on the two man crawl engineered by me and HH. Never cherished a hangover before, but it felt like a sign of the old times.
We're building a wall in the new place, commissioned a ladder, we've bought a W/D, couch - apt. coming together.
This isn't actually the Beav, but this kind of sums up my mornings and evenings:
The belly wiggling is bizarre. Doc says baby is in the right position, head down, feet up, so we're locked and loaded.
Mom looks hot, we'll get some snaps of her this weekend, in her new den.
Send encouragement.
I just tossed those cut-offs, guess I was holding on to them thinking that they'd come in handy if I were ever, say, trolling for creek sluts on Ocean Isle.
Best Halloween, ever.
Second best Halloween, ever.
This one looks like Halloween, it wasn't. Right about the time my brother started beating me up cause he could.
Not sure why mom agreed to pose for this one.
DC, world cup '94 maybe. Brent was in his early Jack Johnson phase.
These two were taken right around HS graduation, the night we played Salem Academy. That's Uncle JJ in the back, eating ham, with the moustache.
College guys hanging out with High School guys. Band night at the Steak House, this ended really badly.
I used to have this one on my dresser in college. It disappeared for years.
House party at Louie's. Might have been my first kegger. Charlie put his bass through that wall moments after this was taken.
That's me with the t-shirt on that says "daggers". Awesome Canadian Passport.
Derby Day, Brooklyn, '99 maybe.
This was taken the night of me and the Beav's first date. My brother was at this party with a broken leg AND vertigo. JJ was spinning Mac Davis records. Dancing Rob Davenport on the right.
Taken in Jersey, at Uncle A's I think. Was listening to a lot of Dave Edmunds and Donald Fagen in this phase.
Feeling mildly nostalgic these days. Likely due to the fact no one is going to be interested in taking any pictures of me in about two months. Dug up a few *gems* during the move that possibly merit re-circulation. For the Aunts and stuff.
I don't ever really get tired of this one. Taken during the filming of one of our epic video productions, circa '88, in Lewisville, NC. Masked man in the upper left just became a father. "Big Daddy Fernie" (seated middle), now father of two. I'm crouching in the track pants. Beav has hijacked those, they are her house pants these days.
The below was taken about 8-9 years ago, at Gilligan's bachelor party, Sammy's Roumanian steak house. I think this is a reaction to the bill.
I gave this one to my mother for Christmas this year. Taken on the roof of 179, can't remember the occasion, but figure it's at least 8 years old too. Those are totally not jazz cigarettes.
Hank sent me this one, from H.S. graduation beach week, '91. Nudie lighters on necks, everyone's wearing their tough guy t-shirts. I'm the only one who stayed this size, everyone else became men.
Taken at the frisbee golf park in Winston. Frisbee says it all. That's ASH in the back, he was supposed to be the frisbee expert, I left with five of his dollars that day. Eags getting married this summer, will be excellent and baby's first road trip I'd imagine.
This was backstage at Kaiser Jab's wedding, also in Lewisville. Situation deteriorated from here.
Parting sentiment. Pretty much how I think I look like I feel right now. Like a hand grenade went off two feet from my head. If that makes any sense:
With all the personal hub bub and alleged drama re: the move, the oven bun, late sleeping, etc. - I probably come off as a man addled by the PAIN. Got a dose of perspective this weekend. My dearest little brother, the TINY, did a number on his left flipper, resulting in surgery, plates, screws, morphine, and general shittiness.
Can't speak in specifics, but I've assurances this thing hurts like sandy crack on a cross country roadtrip. Only upside here lies in the care package coming, and the fact that a bionic ankle makes for good uncle bedtime.
Big brother's sloth puts him in zero danger for such injury, however, ready to take rubber bullets as needed.
If you are in network, send the kid a condolence. Cordani on *speed heal with a hot meal* (program), already.
For a real recap, you have to go here:
http://fcscurvy.com/html/fc_news.html
How bad ass is their blog? I got to harden up here in a hurry and lose these foppy colors / soft fonts.
Well, we moved. Nights one and two logged at the new joint, it was EPIC. For starters, had we not the Mighty in-laws, we'd have been toast. The exodus started 7AM Saturday, and the last box from 179 was delivered to 88 India about 9:30PM last night (I did Tom Sawyer HH into a little pizza bait and switch for the final push to sum).
I feel like someone used me to test out their new bear beating / riot supression stick. Back, feet, hips, hands = playdoh. Too beat for a witty recap, very pleased to report the commute this morning went off without hitch.
Mrs. Beaver, bless her heart, still at the new digs, unpacking boxes and deciphering my serious box labels (here's one, "skull + patches")
Pictures tell the story better than I, here goes. This is the new place, pre-arrival of 12 years of crap:
Seemed roomy at this juncture. Geometry is a cruel science. Here's Mrs. Beaver at 179, when this project still appeared manageable.
Here's Mr. Beaver, snapped about the same time, beaming with optimism.
Now, we did hire movers. They are called the WONGS, and they tend to hoist 4-5 100lb. boxes on their backs, while smoking, and mule them down stairs. They aren't insured of course, so no worries when it comes to the valuables.
Exterior of 179, slated for demo wethinks:
Here's a WONG, pleased I'm wielding a camera and not my work gloves. Top two boxes are gold d'blooms of course:
Our landlord was kind enough to pop by so we could use the freight elevator. His name is IVAN, and he is dangerous with a handtruck. That's a 25LB. country ham in the baby basket:
Here's the Beav, taking five in a nearly empty 179. That yoga ball didn't make the trip, neither did the couch.
The end of an era, 12 years nearly. Place looks small without my shoes and collections.
No better way to cull your shizz than when faced with moving it. Had to part with the tire iron display, spare railroad stakes, pennies from the mid century, wire rims, windshield cleaner, beach chairs, cinderblock art, health insurance evidence from '94 - '98, etc.
Here it is, the new digs, truck trip one:
Truck trip two:
Pretty obvious, no room to walk even. We figure we downsized 30% in square footage, yet tossed only 10% of our possessions. The altar, the most valuable thing we own, didn't make the turn at the top of the stairs. If anyone needs a nine and a half foot long, 18th century piece of Chinese history, leave comment.
Thanks again to HH for the vittles Saturday night, and to the elder Beavers / McKennas for the extra hands before and after.
Next missive will be realized from the new address, likely from traction.
YAOS!
A + W
Still can't get over that I'm responsible for the above. Mom is doing great. I get to be a gentleman - help her out of cars, use the oven cleaner, and such - she gets to eat all the fun stuff. Getting real used to that thing snuggling up to me when I'm prone. It is now the source of all my powers.
We had Trey over for eats, took me three hours to make a pretty simple meal - this because I couldn't find all my gear. But once I got it rolling, worked out pretty good. Dishwasher really helps offset my free-form vessel style.
