A quick note from the other side

We have successfully completed the move from North of the city to South of the city. All of the boxes have been unpacked. Well, all of the boxes except for the hundred or so being stored in the garage for the immediate future. I'm trying very hard not to look in the garage. It scares me.

For the time being, I am still working on the North Shore, so I can enjoy a very long commute and a limitless supply of "World Famous" roast beef shops. I think the North Shore has all the famous roast beef in the world, because the only roast beef you can find on the South Shore is in a sub roll and slathered with mayo. Of course, the South Shore has a much better supply of linguica, so it has that going for it.

So that's the update for now. Hopefully, I'll be able to get back to stories of embarrassing childhood incidents or of Baby Boy EC's pee and poop production in the not too distant future.

Buried under boxes

The movers come Wednesday. Life for the EC family for the past week has revolved around boxes. Many, many boxes. Emptying boxes, making boxes, filling boxes. And bubble wrap. Wrapping things in bubble wrap and putting them in boxes. I'm pretty sure I've already spent at least a week's pay at Public Storage buying boxes. And bubble wrap. And tape to make the boxes. My biggest worry now is that Baby Boy EC or the Endangered Corgi will end up swaddled in bubble wrap and in a medium box. All so that the movers can come take the boxes so that they can be unpacked at our new location. At least we have movers this time. The thought of moving all of our furniture again, with BB EC's furniture on top of it, would make me want to crawl up inside a large box in the fetal position.

So that's the moving update for today. I just have to stop on the way home from work and buy some more boxes.

Not quite according to plan

Things are in a state of general upheavel and chaos on the EC homefront right now. Looks like the missus, BB EC and Endangered Corgi might be making a totally unplanned move back to the hometown much, much sooner than we had ever planned to, putting a premature end to our 10 years of wandering in the North Shore desert. This is the second day of me dealing with that likelihood, which means I am many times over more pragmatic and reasonable about it than I was at this time yesterday.

General rule - Give EC a day to sulk and feel sorry for himself and he gets it out of his system.

May sound corny, but everything will likely turn out for the best sooner than any of us may expect. Plus, it's hard to feel too bad about one's lot in life when Baby Boy EC lights up our days with a seemingly infinite array of poop faces and incredibly loud farts and belches.

So pack up the dishes, call the post office, looks like we're heading home. Maybe for a short time, maybe longer.

Don't talk to me about your fancy-pants pitcher

I'm a Sox fan and have no reason to grouse about the second-best Japanese pitcher on the roster, but I think Jim Leyland hits the nail on the head here. Of course, I'm partial to grouchy old men.

And yesterday's game reminded me why I love baseball. Three hours of tedium capped by a half-inning of incredible drama and tension. I'm not the type who yells and screams about managerial decisions, but if I were an Orioles fan, pretty sure I wouldn't be too happy with Sam Perlozzo right about now.

When I am a rich man

About a month or two back, I signed up for Google ads, not so much because I thought it would make me rich, but because I thought, hey, why not?
So far, it's working like a charm, the not making me rich part. To date, I've pulled in a whopping 45 cents in profit. I can now afford to buy a stamp, with enough change left over to, well, to save for a second stamp.
Even though I'm not making the big bucks yet, Google ads does give me one more website to obsessively click and check, and it does provide stats on page impressions and whatnot, even though i'm sure I generate about 90 percent of the impressions clicking on my own site. I'm sure there are other blog-type programs that keep track of visitors and such much better than Google ads, but hell, it took me over a year before I mastered the art of linking to other blogs from my blog. Generally, I can handle the minimal amount of technology I need to get by.
Otherwise, I am tring to hatch some kind of socialistic web based economy where everyone gets all the money they need by doing nothing more than clicking on each other's Google ads all day. If anyone has a more concrete plan, I'm happy to hear it out.

Mr. Poopie Pants

Baby Boy EC is home and doing well. Napping, pooping, staring at black and white targets and the lights on his play gym and all of that other totally adorable baby-type stuff. The Missus and I totally love him and I'm fairly certain that BB EC is getting used to us.

As expectant parents, the Missus and I probably got a lot of advice and tips, some solicited and some not. Most of the the little tidbits I heard broke down like this - your life will change forever, get use to not sleeping, and you will get peed on. Sure enough, two weeks in, and it's all pretty much true. Of course, it was all pretty blatantly obvious advice - what, you mean there is a little person who can't do much on his own and is going to depend on me and my wife 24 hours a day and you think my life is going to change - well golly gee, and I was really hoping to start training this spring for that ascent of Mt. Everest I've been putting off for years.

The lack of sleep and the getting sprayed by the peepee is also kind of obvious, but nobody bothered to tell me that there are two less obvious derivations of those old standbys.

First, the sleep. BB EC obviously needs to be fed and changed every couple of hours, so there is a decided lack of sleep. But, luckily for me and the Missus, BB EC has been a pretty good sleeper, and we've all been able to get back to sleep during the night after the 30 minutes of the feeding and changing ritual. What may actually be the bigger shock to the system isn't the lack of sleeping, but the lack of any kind of coherent eating schedule for the grown ups. If Mrs. EC and I can get the window to throw together a sandwich and wolf it down for lunch by 4 pm. its a good day. Doing the math, that pushes dinner time back somewhere between 8 pm and breakfast the next day. About the best advice I can give to ensure you don't waste away while your newborn is eating everyday is to make sure there are plenty of foods around that can be eaten with one hand. Pop Tarts and granola bars are high on the list.

And for getting sprayed, it really isn't the pee that's the biggest shock the first time it happens (although it is pretty amazing that he can send a stream clear across the changing table to the other side of the room). Nope, it's the stuff shooting out the back end. Apparently, the fresh air on a baby's bottom acts as a kind of laxative. Luckily, being a baby is about the only time when everyone is thrilled that you're pooping, no matter where it lands, and BB EC is making the most of it.