Today, the game has returned. In commemoration of the Great Bambino, I partook of the holy sacrament: a hot dog and a beer. So far now, it’s the bottom of the Seventh and the Twins are up 3 to 2.
The best part is sharing this with my son. He’s slowly beginning to grasp who is doing what on the screen and what it means for the game. It’s great watching him get excited over a swing-through strikeout (though he forgets which team we are rooting for). It’s grand. I love answering his questions about what is going on. I am definitely looking forward to taking him, and eventually the girl too, to ballgames with me.
I also like how watching this inspires him to play. Better than any cartoon, baseball will make a kid want to run outside with a bat and a glove and take some swings. I’m already planning out my summer to involve lots of the baby napping in the shade while he and I throw around a ball for a bit.
Oh, by the way, it’s snowing nice and wet and hard, and it has been doing that all day. Reminds me a bit of a rant from last year.
Play ball, folks!
We made it home on Wednesday evening after final checkups on Mommy and Emily at six. Since then, things have been quiet. Austin stayed over at Grandma and Grandpa’s that night as well to give the three of us a little time to relax after our hospital stay. Now our family of four is home and here to stay.
When we left home on Monday afternoon, it was all still in a state of disarray since the baby shower was on Saturday and Sunday was interrupted by the usual nonsense. Now since having Emily join us and come home, our loads of equipment have somehow tripled. So we’re slowly piecing things together, finding convenient places for all of it, and seeing what actually works and what only seems good in theory.
All is well. Emily went in for an initial checkup on Friday, and they tested her again to see if jaundice is setting in. Things are still good, but we’ll be watching closely just in case. It helps that Mommy and I can barely take our eyes off her anyway.
I’ll write more about the whole event when I have some more specific downtime. On top of the stuff we have to do to reestablish our house as a home for four, my dear lappy decided to end its life rather abruptly. The disconnect from the digital world is a tad unnerving, but also nice. All will be back up and running when I get back to work on Tuesday (I think I will take tomorrow off as another day to sort and clean and whatnot.)
In all, Austin, M and I are still on Cloud Nine. Though honestly, I’m waiting to be able to breathe. Emily is so small and quiet, my ears prickle to hear her through the silence. I’m far more attuned to Austin’s general decibal level and when it’s quiet, that’s when I check on him. Plus it doesn’t help me that I’m completely stuck on my baby princess. At least M smirks at me as the ‘Doting Daddy’.
Either way, I’m not planning on being able to draw a stable breath until about 2033.
Another quickie picture post. (Again, click to see full-size image).
Big Brother Meets Baby Sister.
Austin Sings To Emily.
My Two Kids.
Ladies and Gentlemen of Radioland, introducing Emily Rose Fryer!(click the pictures for full size images)
Arriving in on March 17th at 11:57 pm, just in time for Saint Patrick’s Day.
Weighing in at 7 lbs, 10 oz.
Twenty-One inches long.
Here she is peeking out and cuddling with Mommy.
Baby Emily with her Daddy.
Miss Emily Rose Fryer.
She’s our beautiful baby girl.
Sorry for the lack of posting the past few days. Well, at least it feels like I haven’t done much of anything.
We got tons of new computers for replacing the labs, so this week has been a stripping out of the old and setting up of the new. I haven’t been at my computer much (which reminds me, I need to do my Psych quiz here quick) because of being out of my chair and breaking my back under tables for four days.
Also, since these new computers have the Leopard Mac OS, I decided I better get that on my lappy forthwith. But the Leopard install disks I have are intended for iMacs only. Well, I went ahead and did it anyway, and lo and behold, I killed my precious compy.
It was dark times not having all my favorite distractions at my fingertips. I felt out of touch with the world and myself. I was like an animal, lurking onto other spare machines just for glimpses of email and news. Any and every movie depicting what humans would be like after a nuclear war: dirty, scrounging, out for only himself; that was what I became. No exaggeration.
Ah, but this afternoon, my brilliance shined through. I pulled off installing the new operating system and salvaging all my old programs and links. I’m in the future, baby! I feel so fast and sleek. You know every movie depicting the glorious, streamlined future when man still dominates his vast machinery? That is where I am.
For my grad school class this term, there have been three Fridays of school tours. It was interesting as can be. We saw nine schools, covering a wide gamut of different models of teaching methods in public and private schools. Some of them struck me as utterly mad, leaving me questioning if they taught anything at all.
When all was said and done, I found myself pretty well back where I started. The final school was just a middle school in the first ring of suburbs. Nothing fancy; no magnetic or chartered stuff. They had a declining population that was slowly shifting demographics. Their principal in her tenure had concentrated on making themselves strong in special education and music, which I can respect.
To open that tour, our class had the chance to pay three bucks to have a school lunch with the kids. Middle schoolers are absolutely nuts, but usually very social. I and another gentleman took it upon ourselves to openly converse with some young ladies who had no idea why a couple of adults were talking to them, but were happy to answer questions about what they didn’t like about their school. Their answers were often amusing and enlightening at the same time.
Still, I think what stands out in my mind is how energy works in middle school. At that level, the kids are young enough to have their own energy to give off, and as a teacher, I could feed off of it. I can understand that with all that I’ve done here where I work, that the students really do help fuel what you want to do. With high school, I can see there being less of that, particularly in the core required subjects.
These are just a bit of my observations. I like my schools small, that’s for sure. The giant institutes were off-putting for me. And after all of it, I walked away liking the idea of middle school, at least to start out. Perhaps down the line I will want to be able to sink more into the content than dealing with a bunch of goofy twelve year olds. But for now, I can dig it.
Last night, I got my new car! And it’s my dream car. What, you mean I got my SUV that runs on personal methane and hope? Hardly.
What I am now the proud owner of is a 2002 Ford Focus Wagon. Yes, folks, I have a station wagon again! It’s lovely silver (adorably matching M’s car) and has merely 60k miles on it. What’s also really cool is that it has the slightly bigger and more powerful so it can haul the extra weight of the wagon’s end.
My father in law found it from an insurance auction, needing a new bumper and door. He loves projects like these, and by the time he was through with it, I swear the new car smell had returned! It’s practically pristine, so much so that I almost feel better leaving it in the garage. Bless his heart for all the work he’s done for us on this. I owe him a great deal of wood chopping and hauling work this year.
And man oh man… this thing is quiet. And fast. And smooth as can be. It just floats down the road. The boy and I can converse without shouting over barely-working heaters and the loud banging of doubly dead suspension. It just floats down the road. Now I don’t have to blast the stereo to hear the guilt-trip of public radio’s pledge week.
Really, best of all, is that I don’t have to worry about the car. I know it runs, and runs well. It’s clean and reliable and gets nearly 30 miles to the gallon. I can carry people and things without warning them ahead of time. Peace of mind is ridiculously valuable, especially once you’re a parent. I have enough to worry about every moment of every day.
Oh, and it has cup holders!
(Rest assured, I’ll post up pictures later this week. And for those who know me, The Cheat is safely adhered to the left rear window, where he belongs.)
Over the past week, the entire Fryer family over here has gotten sick. First the boy over the weekend, then my wife, and lastly lucky, lucky me. And joy of joys, it’s been a stomach flu. At least with a cold one can pump themselves full of enough pharmaceuticals to get by and sleep hard at night. But no, I got the bugs strong enough to not be killed off by either of my predecessors’ immune systems.
Basically, what it means for this space is that even the more silly thoughts I post up here have not even been conceived. Sorry, folks.
Just before becoming ill, though, I decided it might be fun to play around with a Twitter account. Right now, I’m able to add stuff to it easily, but cannot add it to my sidebar on this site. So if you happen to be just that bored, feel free to look at the randomness spewing from my head.
Oh, one parting thought: why is it when you’re sick, the sounds of joyful play from children makes you want to feed them to the lions?
I do like to try to post what I can of the work I do in school. So often, schoolwork appears to be nothing other than time spent alone or off somewhere out of sight from daily life. Nothing is really produced by your presence.
This was what came out of an assignment to creatively create an artifact to represent my education. What things I learned, how I changed, what affected me inside and outside of school. For some reason unknown to me, my artifact became a poem. I can’t really remember the last time I wrote a poem. It was probably back in high school that I last wrote anything.
Here’s an excerpt:
Then when I was 17,
It was a very good year.
I read Orwells 1984 while near
The fallen Iron Curtain.
I saw the crumbled Wall, the ruins of evil
That compressed humanity.
And there I lived, the foreigner in
A foreign land.
A role I fell into completely.
[Note, I cannot help but put in any small reference/tribute to Frank Sinatra. Don’t ask why. Full text after the jump.]
My apologies for the dearth of posting the past few days. I’ve been quite sick since Thursday and only yesterday began to feel better. Since then, I did the foolish thing of having Taco Bell for lunch, and now feel ill again.
It all rather stinks, since I think I had been doing a better job since the beginning of the year of posting about once a day. That was one of my silent resolutions. Even if it was simply a bit of nonsense, I wanted to put something up here daily.
Anyway, back to being sick. I do want to say bless my wife’s heart for letting me be the sick dog I was. She is now over thirty weeks pregnant and for days straight pulled off the single-parent routine. I’m sure I’ll make it up to her somewhere down the line. Maybe I can be less of a dumbass for a week (I can hear her scoff now).
I completely crashed Thursday and Friday nights after work. I can hardly believe I managed to get myself up and through Friday at all. But I pulled it off for the sake of having enough sick days for the baby. Come Saturday, though, I was gone. I took some of my favorite drug, NyQuil (aka Night Nurse for my British fans), and went to bed right around six and barely got up at all the next day.
Still, the cure wasn’t the NyQuil. It helps just knock one out enough to let the body do its own work, really. But the biggest cure was the season of The Simpsoons I just bought. My oh my how it did make a difference. I laid in my quiet, darkened room, watched a couple episodes, and passed out. Nothing beats that kind of cure.
Oh, and tons of chicken soup and drinking lots of water.