Virus and the Corporate World

If you haven't already guessed, I work in a corporate atmosphere. Yeah, I know. The pictures with the cowboy hat, the comic book art, the endless talk of Legos and Star Wars probably had you fooled, but sad to say I am employed by a company that actually has a middle management level.

If you've ever worked with computers in a big corporation, you'll understand my current dilemma. A few days ago, we were infected with the Muu virus. It's not like a normal bug that is opened by some technophobe who really thinks that someone they don't know cares about them enough to send them a Friendly greeting, it actually works its way into a network and looks for any shared folders, moves to them, finds more shared folders and it's on its way. While shared folders aren't hard to find on one machine, looking for them on every machine in the company takes some time, especially if they're on machines that are rarely viewed. Automation is a nasty lady when it comes to that. You hear a lot of, "Huh, I didn't even know we HAD this machine."

So for the past 4 days, we've been through a mix of scrambling around trying to stem the flow of infectious code and sitting idly by because some of our servers just aren't working. To top it all off, today, Friday, our email server goes down and we have no way to communicate to large groups at once. For problem reporting that's a big issue, I don't even have the phone numbers to call all the people I need to tell something isn't working right. Again, nasty lady. Let's just say I've got a little time on my hands.

Well guess what, today, of all days, management decides to ask how our testing is going. I work in Quality Assurance and we run all our applications through a battery of tests before they're released. For the past week we haven't had servers and sometimes our own machines to test with, but that doesn't stop the supervisory board from asking how our testing is going. How's it going? HOW'S IT GOING?? It's going freakin nowhere, Sir! If you haven't noticed, 70% of our machines won't load a desktop, the rest are using up the CPU like a cancer. Now our Exchange server is down and you want me to give you an update on our testing?

Coupled with this is the building management's uncanny knack of not providing half our building with AC on Fridays. So with coworkers in tanks tops and I in my cap, we all settle down and put up with this crap.

(Notice this has little to do with the cool things going on in Austin, just looking for a place to open up the valves a bit.)

Whew! The parents are gone!! Don't get me wrong, I love having guests, especially when it's my family, but two weeks in a row of not being able to walk around naked...

*ahem* So the comic book message board I go to on a daily basis has seen fit to nominate me as a moderator for one of their forums. It's a big deal for me actually because I've been visiting this board specifically for over 2 years and the old Wizard boards before that, so it's been a while. I'm truly honored and I hope to do a good job. It's an interesting turn of events, though. I mean, it's not like I finally obtained my degree in Art or got a raise or sold my first comic or won the lottery, but I'm so excited about it I'm bursting to tell someone. Trouble is, it doesn't sound that great to just the average Joe. Mrs. Austin was pretty jazzed about it, she knows how much time I spend there and how much the place has influenced me and my actions in the comic world. I consider it my second home, the people my extended family. I guess in terms that are more relative, it would be like being nominated to City Council or head of the PTA. It's not the presidency, but it's a small taste of power. "And with great power comes great responsibility."

Mrs. Austin is thinking of going back to school. Thinking, hell, she's registered. Classes start Aug 21st. We're of course worried about finances, but it's a chance to finish her degree so I'm all for it. Things will work out. It's a good change after 3 years of pumpin' PCs and dealing with managereal paperwork and I hope she makes the best of it. Once the convention hoopla is done, it'll be her turn to chase her dream. I'll still be drawing and making sure Lil Miss Austin is being raised in the fine tradition of hockey, Star Wars and Lego. Sure we might have to cancel the cable and DSL and sell a car if financial aid is not available, but those are small things compared to knowledge. I'm excited for her. She's excited to go. LMA is excited to see Spongebob, so it all works out.

On the Road Again. Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain. Crazy. Kansas City Here I Come.

Not all these are Willie's songs, not all are made famous by him although he wrote them. But one thing's for sure, when he sings them, when he sings anything, you'll know it's Willie Nelson.

8 miles up Hwy 71 in Spicewood lay the Two Rivers Canyon Amphitheater. We hauled the Mitsubishi loaded up with Mrs. Austin, Lil Miss Austin, Grandpa and Grandma Colorado and myself down the winding scenic highway until we reached the gilded oasis of music, turkey legs and redneck beer drinkin'.

Mrs. Austin purchased tickets to Willie Nelson's 4th of July Picnic months ago, practically when they went on sale. Willie Nelson is to her as a trip to Disneyworld is for an 8 year old. So making this trip to Meca-B-Q was a no brainer. With my parents buying their own tickets as well, it was just begging for a good time...

...or disaster.

Sorry, I'm reading that Da Vinci book so I'm forcing some dramatic pauses in here.

Anyway. The day was overcast and breezy. We'd heard on the radio and TV the day before (the actual 4th of July) that traffic was horrible getting into the venue. The rain made the general admission seating resemble Woodstock II. And on top of it all, The Dead (sans the Grateful) did a 3 hour set. Even Willie thought it better to avoid that trip. But that's not the 5th of July. When we went, the crowds had stayed home or left later, the traffic was non-existent, the rain stayed away, and all that was left was the fun.

Even being a confirmed anti-country fan, and recently giving in to the urge to own a cowboy hat because I thought it was more an urban apparel thing, I had a really good time. We didn't sit too close, but this wasn't Rage Against the Machine, if you wanted to get close to the stage, all you had to do was politely nudge past a few drunk Texans and you were there. Mrs. Austin did that several times, making sure to get her money's worth of Willie and her inner core's worth of heavy bass lines. I mostly sat with the parents and LMA while band after band took the stage.

I'd like to give a special recommendation for anyone reading to check out Los Lonely Boys; easily the band of the day. They were tight, energetic, fun, talented, and had a big sound with not a large band. To me, they blew away the headliners included the "Best Band in Austin" Del Castillo. Consummate performers with a natural sense of music and human emotion, I was glad to have been party to their unfortunately short set.

Willie was not the main star of the show. Don't get me wrong, it had his name all over it, but he wouldn't be on stage all the time. He'd come out and play along with each band for one song, then head back to his air conditioned bus to recoup. I don't think ANYONE had a problem with it, after all, he's freakin 70 years old. However it gave an odd sense of eulogy to the entire event, like they were celebrating the man who was only partially there. It wasn't a Willie Nelson concert, it was a Williepalooza. So when one of the acts couldn't perform because they were stuck in traffic, we had the legendary honor of hearing Mr. Nelson do 4-5 songs on his own, a twist of fate we wouldn't normally had the pleasure of hearing. It was pretty funny all in all that the next performer was "stuck in traffic" when there was no traffic either getting to the show or leaving the show. Another biz euphemism for "they're stoned off their ass and couldn’t carry a tune right now if you put it in a back pack." Needless to say, Mrs. Austin bolted to the stage and enjoyed 30 mins of unadulterated Willie (easy with the jokes now.)

I can't say it's the most fun I've ever had. It was certainly enjoyable, but it also came with a lot of sitting and worrying about my parents. The last concert they went to I'm pretty sure involved the word Pops, so having them sitting in the muddy and rocky grass surrounded by straw hats, long boys and a prominent lack of AC was giving me stress that I was unable to translate. I didn't want to leave, but I didn't want to force them to stay if they didn't want to, and I didn't want to tear Mrs. Austin away from her country music bliss. I easily blasted through half a pack of smokes in about 4 hours. Not wanting to spoil the afternoon by being a sour puss, I had a few beers and forgot about it all.

In the immortal words of Ray Wylie Hubbard, "Screw you, I'm from Texas."

I'm watching From Russia with Love and it hits me that there are a few too many scenes of 007 walking around a hotel room looking for bugs with chase music going on. The trademark Bond theme blaring with all the trumpet power it can muster, and Mr. Connery is doing nothing short of looking behind a painting for a wire. 30 minutes later, his associate in Istanbul has his private office bombed and all we get is a cello. Call me reactionary but I think the director of music must have taken a nap when he threw this baby together. Probably wrote the whole bit on a Sunday afternoon after watching The Birds and realized it was good but needed a snappier soundtrack.

So there's this little girl next door who's taken a shine to Lil Miss Austin. I can't quite imagine why, LMA is 2 and this girl is 6. LMA is working on not leaving surprises in her miniature panties and this girl is modeling swim suits. The only attraction I can figure out is that the neighbor girl, we'll call her Alice, thinks LMA is a little doll. They can't talk on any level, they don't have the same toys, Alice's other friends are even older than her, by almost a generation. Regardless, she's at our door almost every 20 minutes asking if LMA can come out to play. Actually, she's got a bit of a stutter, so it's not so much asking as it is a lot of standing there with nothing to say while she tries to chat up a 30 year old dad who wants nothing more than to slink back into his nice cool home and play Half Life. Nothing against the girl, she's really sweet, but I think she's still learning about boundaries. It's one thing to approach a family as they sit outside, playing in a pool or with a small two wheeled killing machine, it's another to come in to our house unannounced, bringing the mail. Mrs. Austin and I have got to the point where we don't answer the door anymore. I'd rather see Jehovah’s Witnesses outside than to have to small talk this little trooper. On top of it all, she doesn't give grace time from first doorbell ring to next door knock to next insistent door knock to small polite "Oh I don't think their home but I'm 6 and what do I know" door knock...*sigh* I really would like LMA to be friends with her, or anyone really. There're not many toddlers around here. However, I think Alice needs some friends her own age. Plus I'm pretty much out of lies about LMA being sick, asleep, doing her calculus homework, or dead. I mean, I'm being played by this girl and it's making my reflux act up.

The Da Vinci Code. Oh good God don't give this book to anyone unless you don't expect to see them for 48 straight hours. I received this nugget as a gift on my birf-day and I haven't read it yet. Meanwhile Mrs. Austin has absconded with it, took the day off of work, read it cover to cover, researched it online, figured out all the clues and is currently petitioning Austin Community College to open a course on the subject. I mean seriously. (Mrs. Austin here. If Mr. Austin knew anything about the book, and had as much desire as I had to read it, he would know that there already was a course!) To add insult to injustice, she's a fast reader and can accomplish such Dead Poet Society tasks, where as it will take me the greater part of a M Class star's life span to read it just one time. For example, Lord of the Rings; the full trilogy took me a year. A YEAR!! That's half my daughter’s age, to read a book! Who's the mook now??

Anyway, I hear it's a good book. I hope to find out before LMA can drive to the library to check it out.

Father in laws don't appreciate humor about pot distribution at the Austin airport. I can't imagine why. Well, maybe Timothy Leary's dad thought it was funny. Or Jerry Garcia's dad. Yeah, that's it. Pot in Austin is like Hash in Amsterdam, it's a non-issue. I don't smoke pot *coughliarcough* but I do drink a lot of coffee and eat too much pasta, ends up being the same effect. Right? RIGHT? Besides, someone who's seen Willie Nelson in concert THREE TIMES *cougholdmancough* should at least chuckle at the joke. Otherwise, no double-holed bent up Pepsi can for you at the show, man. Sweeeet. Totally.

Thirty years and a day. That's how old this human being is now. Thirty years. It doesn't feel much different than 26 and probably won't feel any different when I'm 35 or even 40. I'm sure my knees might pop a little more, and I might get acid reflux easier, but to be honest, I don't feel 30. Call it immaturity, call it denial, but I actually still have a 22 year old mind set. I still feel like this weekend I'll be going out and getting wasted and staying up all night and the next day play video games and go see a movie. I still watch cartoons. I read comics. I suppose it's "young at heart." It's hard to say.

One thing that came up in coversation was that it's not so much the age that bothers me, it's what it represents. I don't feel like I only have a certain amount of years left, I feel that the years that I've had so far have been wasted. I'm not regreting any decisions mind you, but I would have liked to have done more. Looking back through eyes that have seen 30 years of my antics, there is a great lack of accomplishment. Mrs. Austin asked last night what the biggest accomplishments I've had in my life. I had to think about it and it was kinda sad to see that my biggest accomplishments didn't happen until I was almost 30 anyway. Married, 25. Baby, 27. House, 28. Making my own comic, 30. So out of 30 years, 5 have been production.

I could go farther back and say, well I TOOK 6 years of college. I didn't graduate and yes the time was mainly spent drinking and sleeping late, so I've got nothing but some fond memories there. High school wasn't much better, instead of focusing on business, or a skill that would benefit me later in life, I chose to flounder between art, music and theater. And even then I didn't pick one to put all my energy into. I'm only now realizing that I need to stick with art. I need to ditch all thoughts of doing anything but what I like to do best and just do it. I need to abandon my drum set, my hockey skates, and any other distractions that weigh me down like so many chains on Jacob Marley. 30 is the age that snaps you around and says, "Ok, you've farted around for long enough. You didn't go find yourself in Africa or Europe, and you're too old to be starting a garage band. It's time you started on your path and stick with it. Even if your path is plumbing, do it and do it well. No more excuses."

I hope I can listen well enough.

Good news today. Mrs. Austin has decided to go back to school!! It's a big day for the Austin Family and we're behind her all the way. She was actually happy to the point of tears when she called to tell me. We're both thinking of going back to school and I'm waiting to hear from an old professor friend in Denver about my chances. Mrs. Austin will be taking classes starting August and the classes she's taking will be reimbursed through her employer. Happy days.

I know my dad went back to school. Just a few years back he graduated with a degree in business. It seems to be the thing, lately. A lot of people, especially in this economy, are taking the opportunity to go back to school and get their degree. I, on the other hand, am not going back to school because I'm looking for a better job, I just want to finish it. It gnaws at me that I went to, and paid for a good chunk of 6 years of state college, but didn't finish because I needed to find work. Turns out there were a lot of evening art and theater classes so I had to let it drop.

But this is great news for the Mrs. She's been wanting to do this for years now, and with her loans from a previous school paid off, there was nothing holding her back except just going to the campus and signing up. I know she'll be worried that she's not spending enough time with me and Lil Miss Austin, but you have to make choices and this, I think, is a good choice. If she gets her physchology degree like she wants, who knows what that will do for her. Plus, all the time she spends at school I can use to play video games. I call this a win win scenario.

I wanted to add that another friend of mine has a new job as well and it's a kick ass job doing graphic design for an insurance company. He gets to play with Illustrator and Photoshop and all other forms of digital goodness on a daily basis. He's really excited to be working with something artistic and electronic. That and Mrs. Austin's recent move to finish school got me wondering what I'm doing with my life. Sure I've got a small ashcan comic due out in August, yeah so I've drawn a picture for Bob Schneider, but that's about it. My legacy is going to be nothing more than some mediocre penciled pieces posted in cyberspace. If I were to die tomorrow, I'd have nothing of note to be remembered by other than my daughter. It's a scary thought, that what you're doing doesn't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world, but if you're smart you'll use that as motivation to get off your can and get something done. Write a book, organize a protest, something.

I'm also not very fond of the business I'm in. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate my job, or my boss or my coworkers. (Ok, are they gone now?) What I'm frustrates me is I'm doing something I'd never thought I'd do and I'm frankly not very good at. I do what I can, but since I have no vested interest in my profession other than a biweekly stipend, I can't say with mucho gusto that I'm behind my job, or my company. I just don't care sometimes. I'd rather be making neat graphics for flyers or creating websites for companies or designing characters for video games. But I'm 30 now and I don't have any training in any of those fields, I have self imposed knowledge. Were I to get a job like this, I know enough that I could figure it out in short order, but I'd have to get in the door first. Would you rather hire a student from some graphic art school with a good portfolio that has a degree or someone who's been doing it as a hobby for 10 years with no degree and a very narrow portfolio?

Yeah I don't know either.

Not to be one to burn bridges either, I've got nothing against my job now. Sometimes it's challenging, sometimes it's boring, sometimes I hate coming in, sometimes I don't mind coming in. Never, since I've got into this industry have I woke up and scrambled for the door because I'm just dying to get to work. I'd like to be there some day. I'd like to get a good night's sleep, wake up, and be excited about getting into the office. Maybe not because the job is good, but that I'm suited for the job. LMA's school has a sort of philosophy that they don't teach, they nudge. They find what the child is good at, and they encourage that path as much as possible. I wish there was job placement like that.

Some humor for your day.

Among parents and relatives of parents and friends of parents, there exists a unique flow or exchange. This reciprocal event can be found near birthdays or holidays and usually involved bags, ribbons, paper and bows. The cycle goes back and forth until all children within a group are above a certain age, which could take years. Yes in some cases the cycle has never been broken.

I of course speak of gifts, but no ordinary gifts. Ordinary gifts consist of clothing, cash and computer accessories. For your dad you buy a beer stein, your mother a necklace, your wife a nice camera, your husband a Playstation. For your coworkers, if you’re so inclined, you offer desk calendars and for you close friends you purchase items tailor made to their desires, habits and needs.

But for children that are not your own, you buy the loudest, messiest, bulkiest gift you can find. You know that you’ll never hear the sound of a professional drum kit. You’ll never experience the wonder of 2700 crayons. You’ll never enjoy the rapture that is the bubble-pop mower. Sad to say you won’t have these joys to drool over in your own household because, well first of all you’re not mentally challenged, and second, it’s just fun to watch the faces your friends make when you buy their child of 2 years a puzzle with 4000 pieces. “Wow thanks,” they say trying to hide their mix of shock and dread. “They’ll really like this."

And they will. The children will REALLY enjoy these gifts that bark, beep, honk and tweet. They will revel in putting one of the 256 blocks in enough small places that will ensure you will be looking for them for the duration of you owning that house. They will celebrate the cacophony of hand made musical instruments at 5 am on a Saturday. The problem is, you won’t.

And that’s to be expected, for you see the cycle is vicious and unspoken. You don’t actually say to a friend or sibling, “I’ll be buying your daughter the biggest loudest thing I can find because I’ll never have to hear it, but it brings me joy to know that you will for the next 5 years.” No. You do it because you don’t have to say that. They know, you know, we all know. Loud presents, messy presents, complex presents are our way of saying, “I know you love your child and this will truly test that.”

With that in mind, I’d like to give you and instance, first hand of one such a gift. As thoughtful as it was, and as enjoyable as Little Miss Austin can find it, all it is to us is a big clean up every night. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate anyone for gifts like this, nor do I think anyone hates me for the 150 sound electronic drum set. This, in fact, encourages LMA to use her creative side, which is a good thing for both her and us, and that outweighs any malevolence; intended or otherwise.





Side story, I’m picking up LMA from school today and one of the teachers told her to sing me the song they were just singing. The song was “You are my sunshine” and she sings it beautifully, albeit without the You and My and most of Sunshine, but she has these little gestures that go with it and with that face you don’t even care that she can’t sing yet. Anyway, about half way through the first stanza and another (rather pushy) older girl comes up and pretty much hijacks her song. Well about a fraction of a second before the teacher or I could react, LMA stops and says, “No! My daddy! Go away!” Teacher and I busted up. Another minor cognitive step for my little butterfly.

Just an update for those that read this that I haven't already told.

I drew the picture for Bob S. and Mrs. Austin went to his show at Antone's to give it to him. Long story short, he liked it and said he'd be in touch. I think he was probably being polite, you have to for your fans. Personally the picture really lacks most things I've been working so hard on acheiving over the last year; dynamics, good perspective, clean lines. I mean, I really hope he really likes it and isn't just saying so because I KNOW I've done better work and could probably do better given the time. But every artist is their own worst critic.

Not much more to say, really. I'm excited for the end of June, get to see both parents inside the same week, and a grandma, so that's cool. Going to Willie Nelson's 4th of July picnic/celebration and Sea World which should be just loads of fun. I will be wearing my cowboy hat to one if not both of these events.

Also, if anyone reads Fark.com keep an eye out for some Austin headlines. I've been trying like mad to get something from Austin American Statesmen in there, but for the past month I've yet to get an article posted. Must brush up on my "funny." I was also thinking of a new superhero, his power is he has a perfect wit. He never stammers looking for words, he always has a come back or anecdote or biting reply and he rarely uses a tag line or comfort word. Just so none of you get any ideas, I'll call him Quintin Iver and he is ©2003 Ben Rollman. If I see a wordsmithee type super wit guy any time in the next 70 years I'll hunt ya down and marinate you in a nice chianti.

Pee.

That's what we did on Father's Day. Pee without a diaper. Well I didn't, I'm not allowed to do that anymore, police injunction says so. This weekend was not so much focused on celebrating dad's all over the country or even in my family as much as it was celebrating that Lil Miss Austin knows how to pee in a glorified cup. Let me tell you, this is probably the best present she could have given me. LMA ran around for most of the weekend wearing nothing but here little sandles and a smile. I tried to do the same thing, but I thought the neighboors might object when I'd step outside for a smoke.

Yes, we're both very proud of her. Two, maybe three accidents all weekend. We did ask every 5 minutes if she had to go, but when she had to, and then did, man did we erupt in praise and smiles and admiration. Couple more weeks of this and she can officially no longer be called a baby, although she will always be our baby girl. It's hard though, we spent all 48 hours together and that was just dandy, but I'm worried about her going back to school. The teacher's have their own agenda and needs and duties, so my leaving a note saying "Little Miss Austin is working on potty training now so please ask her often if she has to go" is probably either going to fall on deaf ears and into the round file, or spark some "We know what we're doing" debates when I pick her up. I've seen her in school climb up on the lu and pretend to go, whether she goes or not during the course of the day can only be answered by that teacher who's name I don't know.

So in the end it was a good weekend, nothing special yet special at the same time. The wife called in "quality time." I've heard the term but really didn't know what it felt like to have it happen to me, and I only realized it after it was done. I'd always gone LOOKING for quality time, and usually ended up taking a nap.

Tell you how much of a badass Mrs. Austin is, she's my own little PR firm.

Last night we went to Shady Grove, an Austin restaurant that occasionally has some live music. Well Bob Schneider was playing last night and, Mrs. Austin being the enormous fan that she is, wanted to go. I arranged the baby-sitting with a friend and we were off.

First of all, there is barely enough parking at Shady Grove for when you just want to go and eat, let alone when a local legend is playing for free. She got there at 5:30 for an 8pm show and it was already packed. After I dropped the kid off, I headed downtown and circled the establishment for about 45 mins before finding a spot to park, then waited in line to get in for another 45 mins. It was 30 mins into the show when I was finally able to get in. Luckily he didn't play any of my favorite songs yet.


So we watch the show, do a little dance, drink a little beer and just have a good old time. Today reports from local radio KGSR indicate attendance records were broken for Shady Grove to the tune of 1,500 people. Doesn't sound like a lot I know, but when you consider the restaurant has the seating capacity of your average Bennigan's, with a moderate size patio, the number is staggering. Needless to say it was standing room only, unless you were one of the fortunate 200 that got chairs. Our view was really good, we were only about 70 feet away from the stage and had a clear view, clearer as the evening went on and people in front of us began leaving or moving around.

I was a bit saddened that he didn't play Beatomatic, otherwise known as the Batman song, but they did do Tarantula so I was pretty pleased. After a crowd pleasing set, he excused his drummer guitarist and bassist and brought up a string quartet and they proceeded to lose the crowd. This really gave me the impression that he just loves playing and he's in it for his love of music and hopefully some fans will appreciate it to. The last 2 songs were love songs, very somber and quiet and the strings weren't miked so all you heard was him for the most part. Interesting way to end a show.

But it gets better.

I wanted to draw a picture of Bob wearing a Batman tee shirt to pay homage to the guy in a way only I can. But I didn't know how to get it to him other than finding his agent or promoter and mailing it to them, knowing it'd see the trash before it got to him. (Which is unfair to say, the last show we saw him I was having a smoke by the entrance and he just walked by like he was coming to see the show, then later that week I saw him at a mall with just one girl. In Austin he's a household name, but outside of that I'm not sure.) Let's just say he's probably still local enough to be pretty accessible, but famous enough to require event staff at a show.

So Mrs. Austin knew about my comic book picture idea, so after the show was over and the lamo fans who didn't get their encore left, leaving the drunk and stoned among us to mill around discussing the finer aspects of how much we really wanted to get some pancakes or enchiladas at 10 at night, she "rushed" the stage. Bob was greeting people, signing some shallow chicks' breasts or faces or whatever, saying hi to friends, and this is how the story goes as told by Mrs. A.

"So I walked up there and he's signing autographs and all and I said 'Hey Bob, can you listen a minute while you sign stuff?' 'Yeah,' he said. 'My husband is a comic book artist and he wants to draw a picture of you wearing a Batman tee-shirt.' He stops what he's doing and looks at me and says, 'What?' 'My husband is a comic book artist and he wants to draw a picture of you wearing a Batman tee-shirt, does he have your permission?' 'Yeah,' he says. 'Ok,' I say, 'So how does he get it to you?' 'Tell him to bring it to Antone's on Tuesday, I'll be there,' he says. 'Ok,' I say, 'thanks.'"

My brush with fame brought about by my personal PR firm. Only problem is now I have to produce. I have 3 days to come up with a good picture. Not that the picture itself is going to be hard, but as an artist I'm going to stress about this because I'm showing it, GIVING it, to what would be considered a huge celebrity, local or otherwise. So I'm off to start sketching, wish me luck.

P.S. Should you need balls the size of coconuts, talk to my wife.

So I've ignored the pictures as of late. We take a lot of pictures but I want to hold true to what Mrs. Austin's wishes are and not just spew photos out across the internet. It would be the same as her scanning all my crappy sketch book pages and emailing them to all my friends. Some of my stuff is private, and more often then not, sucks ass, so I don't want just anyone to see it.

With that in mind however, I do have a responsibility, mainly to family, to show some of what goes on down here, so I've chosen a few photos that aren't anything special, but they amuse me and if they can amuse you then so be it.



We'll start with the Yippiekiyay Mother F***er look that I've recently been sporting. I didn't realize that it was almost a requirement to own a cowboy hat if you live in Texas. I suppose it's similar to owning a pair of skiis if you live in Colorado or a Hawaiian Shirt with Black Socks in Florida. I didn't want the traditional 10 gallon variety, as I'm not a "native" but I'd always liked the way the straw version looked. I could fit in while attempting to retain the urban look. Beck would wear this hat, right? Mrs. Austin just thinks it's horribly sexy and I for one like wearing it so who's to judge. By contrast, a friend wrote me asking why it took so long. She was in Dallas for 2 hours before buying one for herself. Whether she wears it now that she's in the Bronx is another matter.



Lil Miss Austin is just getting so cute. Biases aside, that face is just money. This was our first (and last) attempt at giving her hair some curl, an act that really forced me to admit that she was a girl. No amount of hockey or comic book influence can take away one night with a set of sponges in your hair. This coupled with some toe and fingernail polish completed the ensemble and she was ready to go. The actual result was a bit odd, the back was nice and curled, but the front shot up in this bizzaro Weed Whacker look that I hadn't seen since my days in high school when the Shouting Bangs look was all the rage.



Don't let this picture fool you, this kid doesn't sleep. She fights naps at school and wakes up every 90 mins during the night. It's apparently a 2 year old thing. She's starting to be afraid of the dark, bugs and loud noises. She also may have reached a certain point where her brain is evolving and can't just turn off. Consequently she's up all night while her brain is going over its To Do list. Last night wasn't the worst, but any time you go to open your child's door, but it's being blocked by the child who's fallen asleep on the floor, CPS and a shot on Ricky Lake can't be far behind. Yes this makes me feel like a bad parent, but getting 6 hours of sleep sure doesn't.



And this is LMA doing her Aurther impression. I don't know how Mrs. Austin got this picture, but I'm sure there was some kind of liquid involved. Humans just don't make that face unless they are hammered or can't breath. I have to figure out how to enter this picture into some kind of contest because I'm sure it would win.

No picture to go with this, but something I was mulling over. LMA spends about 50 hours a week at her school. That's a lot, I don't even work that much. We did some rough calculations and if you take sleep time out of an average week, her school sees her 6 hours more than we do. That really hurt me as a parent, that all the worrying and struggle and sleepless nights and I only get her half the time she's awake. So I thought, it's not that bad, her teachers have 5-10 other kids to worry about at any given time, so it's not like they focus on her, or that she really knows them like she knows us. That thought was quashed as we pulled up to her school what morning and one of her teachers was getting out of her car. She shouted the teacher's name in nearly the same volume and tone as she shouts "Daddy!" when I pick her up every day. She actually sounded like she missed her and it almost broke my heart. I hope that in a few years I can retire early, or work less or from home and be with her more often because I don't feel I'm doing anything to shape her nubile mind outside of scolding her for not staying in bed or upsetting her by telling her there's no milk or Wiggles in the car on the way home.

Mrs. Austin just called and ordered us a copy of Austin Monthly magazine. The May issue has 103 things to do in 2003. We had and used the 102 things to do in 2002 as a guide to our summer last year and it was really quite the thing. Some of you may remember photos from Hamilton Pool, the Austin Wildlife Preserve, Austin Zoo and other fun family outings.

This year promises to be more of the same, we hope. Lil Miss Austin is a year older and more developed and will probably react differently to camels and large turtles and splashing marine animals, but that's our hope. Life is not without unexpected results from planned events, and if it weren't for those little gems of existence, I probably wouldn't be writing anything at all. This page has become more of a place to unload personal problems than a chronicle of amusing vacations or changes we're seeing in our daughter, but that should change soon. Granted, some of what we want to do requires a babysitter, and that's ok. Miss Squiggles doesn't have to go with the parents to everything, in fact, in order to remain sane I'd rather she didn't.

We've already got a lot planned, my 30th birthday is 19 days away and both parents are coming in on opposing weekends. One weekend will be Sea World, the next will be Willie Nelson's 4th of July festival. Then after that will be the convention in Chicago, then in September will be Eddie Izzard up in Colorado. With 3 months of activities like that, I'm wondering when we'll have time to fit in the local things like swimming at Barton Creek or taking a tour of the Governor's Mansion. We'll just have to see.

Lil Miss Austin isn't sleeping still. It's been almost 2 weeks since her doctor's visit and discovery that she had a bad ear infection and the antibiotics have taken care of that. But you could almost set your clock to her waking up around midnight, then again at about 2, then again right at 6am. It's starting to really wear on the grownups as I don't think either of us have got 8 hours of sleep in close to a month. We're snippy, grouchy, short tempered and unmotivated. Mrs. Austin's job requires her to be on and kickin' and I've got to stir up some drive to get a major project finished. When we get home, however, the life is just drained from us. All we want to do is eat dinner, have a smoke, watch some Law and Order and hit the sack. I can't even find the strength to read anymore much less draw.

Last night was just horrible. For the last two days I've had this headache that was probably part allergies, part sinus pressure for recent atmospheric activity. I took a proven cocktail of 2 parts sinus meds, 2 parts Excedrin to combat the discomfort. That may have been a bad move as the rest of the night my body was buzzing like a locust after a double cappuccino. My head wouldn't shut up and the thought of sleep was so far away I was actually getting panicky, which didn't help either. LMA woke up her predictable 3 times during the evening, and we took turns "I pat you" until she fell asleep again, but it's getting to be a pattern and I'm not sure it's a good one. Not sure, hell, I'm damned sure it's not a good one. She set to be sent to a friends house tomorrow so Mrs. Austin and I can have an evening out, but my fear of her staying up all night and bothering her hosts is really clouding the euphoria at having time to ourselves.

The trick is, something is waking her up, but we can't find out what it is. We've tried lights on, lights off, noise machine, dead silence, no water before bed, water whenever she wants it, staying with her all night, leaving her alone, sleeping with her, sleeping with us. Short of sticking her in a box in the garage, I don't know that we can do anything else aside from waiting until she's 18.

Well, it's the middle of the day, I'm at the office. I think I might go try and sleep in my car for my lunch break.

Well phooey, I had this HUGE rant entered about the new smoking ban in Austin and Blogger just friggin dropped it. I SHOULD have a few entries written about losing entire entries after spending hours on them. Buckets and buckets of crap!

Anyway,
feel free to read about it yourself. It's a load of crap that 7 people get to decide on an ordinance, 7 people we voted for, but frankly, probably don't go to bars in the first place. It's a big topic right now in Austin, even bigger because the vote was 4-3, the 4th vote being councilman Will Wynn who is now Austin's mayor. The two running for his position on the council are split, one for, one against the ban. Can you guess which guy I'll be voting for?

It's just a stupid waste of legislative action. The ban will only include bars and restaurants, but billiard halls, bingo parlors and fraternal organizations are exempt. That's pretty hypocritical of them to say they're looking out for the health of patrons and employess, just apparently not in pool halls or bingo joints. It's more liberties the government is taking away, pretty soon you won't be able to watch certain shows because the government will sick the FCC on those stations, or better yet, will tell cable companies not to air certain shows that they don't like. I can't imagine how this is helping Austin. There was a smoke free bar at one point, it shut down after a few months because no one went. It's what you do in a bar, drink and smoke. It's always been that way. If you don't want to smell like smoke or breath second hand smoke, don't go. A bar really doesn't offer anything else, just liquor, maybe some shuffleboard, so don't use that "Yeah, but I like to see live music too." I would guess over half of Austin's live music venues are either out doors or in a large auditorium where you can't smoke anyway, so that's a line of bull.

I'm pretty hot about this so I think I'll stop before someone's sensibilities are injured.

Hey kids, what time is it?

No it's not Howdy Doody Time. No it's not time for Barney. No, not Bozo or Teletubbies. Nope, not him. Oh come on, don't you know? I'll give you three guesses. He lives in the ocean and others are trying to find him. No not Hoffa, I'm talking about Nemo. And the reason I'm talking about Nemo is because Lil Miss Austin has been talking about Nemo. It's ALL she talks about. We get into the car, "Go see Nemo?" The doorbell rings, "See Nemo?" We get ready for school in the morning, "Nemo?" The only addition to the pleas is, "Nemo, go shopping?" After all you have to have your priorities, she is so her mother's daughter. As much as Mrs. Austin wants to believe that she's daddy's little girl, the fact that the kid always wants to go shopping is a clarion call to the female persuasion. I like shopping just as much as the next guy, which is to say I like buying things. I like going in, getting it, and getting out. Unless I'm at Best Buy, then I try my hardest just to hang out.

Point of the story lost, moving on. Finding Nemo is a really great film. I won't spoil it here so don't worry. Pixar has just never really made a bad movie. Bug's Life, Toy Story, Monsters Inc, Finding Nemo. I know I'm missing one or two, but you get the idea. They're movie gold. They are what Lucas/Spielberg were in the 80's (Howard the Duck notwithstanding.) But it's just a great family film. Good CGI, heartwarming story, humorous dialogue. Just a thumbs up on all sides.

A few other things for readers out there. Mr. Austin now owns a cowboy hat (and I'll touch on that in a minute) and Lil Miss Austin had a really bad swollen eye the last couple days, probably a mosquito bite, but it was pretty sad. We woke up Tuesday morning to see her eye nearly swollen shut. No leaky stuff or crusty, just really red and puffed out, she looked like a boxer. It's frightening to look at, but she was in no pain or discomfort. However, I still don't think she fully understands complex questions like "Does your eye hurt?" "Does your eye itch?" She'll say "Yes" then you ask, "Did you kill the President?" And she'll say "Yes." So it's hard to gauge really.

On a purely weird note, I've shaved my back again. I hate getting that done. Mrs. Austin doesn't seem to mind at all, and the results for the first day or so are always pleasant, so I don't know. I know that Mr. Austin Senior is long in the back fuzz department and while I don't remember him ever getting it shaved, I just have bad memories of my mom doing something to his back. Just makes me feel old I guess. But to be sure, it really shows off my tattoo, which is cool. I'm reminded of the Sienfeld episode where he shaves his chest. If I do this weekly for, oh I don't know, the rest of my life, I could use that hair to maybe transplate to my head when I go bald. Then I'll look just like the short 'n' curlies Hair Club for Men commercials.

Outstanding.

Quick entry because my arms are killing me. A guy from work owns a boat and yesterday I went out with them on Lake Travis. (Lake Travis, for those who don't live here, is basically the Colorado River that's damned up at various points along the way. When I say Colorado River, it's not The Colorado River that cuts through the Grand Canyon. Why there are two, I don't know. Any way, the lake country is some of the most beautiful in Texas and has a lot of activities and parks and day trip ideas to choose from.

Most people, though, just take their boat out on the "lake" or the wide river that goes through Austin called Town Lake. We had to work on Saturday till about noon doing absolutely jack for 4 hours and then were invited to go out on this guy's boat. It was fun and relaxing. I haven't been on a boat since I moved from CO. We used to go waterskiing all the time on Standley Lake with a friend of my dad's and those were heady days, my friend. Up at the asscrack of dawn, gas up the boat, buy some beer/cokes and donuts and hit the water. You get out early enough and the water is like glass, much easier to ski on. As the day goes on and either the wind picks up or more boaters come out, the water gets choppy.

So the water wasn't great yesterday right near the boat launch so we cruised up about 30 minutes past the 360 bridge and towards Mansfield Dam. It was here that the water dropped to about 70°, it was pretty chilly. So a few jumps in, a few runs on the wake board (which I've never done, but got up on the 3rd try, which according to the other guys is pretty amazing) and a game of spades over beer later, I'm burnt to a crisp. I didn't realize until I got home, but I'm pretty pink right now, and it's a lot of fun to have a two year old jump all over you with a sunburn. Not to mention that my forearms are killing me while I'm typing this. I'm supposed to be drawing right now, but I don't think the muscles in my arms would allow that for any length of time.

But, for having to go in to the office on a Saturday, it wasn't a bad trade off.

For those that don't live in Texas, let me tell you about June bugs.

June bugs are marble sized brown beetles that are arguably the dumbest bugs on the face of the earth. You don't see them during the day usually, you mainly see them at night, breaking their exoskeletons against porch and street lights. They have no navigational skills around these night lights and end up flying in circles and into walls, doors, people, anything not moving around. When they land, they are upside-down wings still buzzing like they've just dropped acid and are hallucinating being chased by a bird in a Dali painting. I mean, I've seen some dumb bugs before, usually beetles, but these have got to be the 'tards of the insect world.

So it got me thinking about why bugs fly into lights at all. It's seems pretty weird that most flying insects do this. When in Colorado, it was the gnats and miller moths that turned the 50 ft radius around any street light into a blizzard of buzzing wings. I checked a few entomology sites and found that no one knows why bugs do this. There are some simple theories however. 1) They use the sun to navigate during the day and instinctually follow it's light in a straight line, helping them know where home and food are. They never get closer to the sun, so it's always in front of them. 2) Moths are attracted to the full moon's light so at night they will fly high and try to reach it, there by spreading their population out over large areas. 3) Insects are more attuned to light waves and the frequency of artificial light over natural light drives them crazy.

Either way, the phenomenon is dependant on two things; the kind of light and the kind of bug. Some bugs are content to sit near the light, some are perpetually flying around it, some try to smash themselves against it. June bugs seem to go into a Bezerker Fury whenever they're near my porch and it becomes an American Gladiator spectacle to watch anyone leave the house. Last night one did a Greg Luganis right into my coke, I can only assume the caffeine calmed it down.

I have to say I wish life were a little better lately. I'm working on just working and staying afloat mentally. Doing this comic book seems a bit selfish and pointless with all that's happening. Things could be smoother on the homefront in a couple aspects, and that forces all participants to sort of step back and take stock in where they stand, what they want, and where things are going. I don't like thinking that in a year I could be by myself, or anything drastic like that. I don't like thinking it because it puts all the other tasks and endeavors in your life into perspective and it's hard to resurrect them. Any death in the family or major schism tends to emphasize the fact that your hobbies are just that and you suddenly start looking at other people who have it worse than you with a feeling of pompitude and egocentrism.

I'm about 30 days away from being 30 years old and it's starting to put perspective on my life. I don't feel old, although Mrs. Austin will be the first in line to comment on my graying hair and snapping joints, but I do feel that from this point on I can't be frivolous with my time. I can't afford to waste efforts and long hours on things that won't help me or my family. I think that's what eventually gets people when they become parents over 30 is they still linger to the vices of their youth but come to a realization that they can't wollow in that life anymore without some detrimental effects. I still want to draw my own comic book, but I just feel like I'm missing the window when I can easily turn this dream into a reality without sacrificing exponentially more than I would have years ago.

Focusing nearly all my energy on this comic, which in all rights is just a couple hundred photocopied pages of chicken scratch, and having so many real life events take place has left me a little empty. Things have happened lately that make me feel like I don't have many friends left, another aging stereotype. My friends are really people I work with or live with and when bad things happen in any of those places you don't feel you have anywhere to go and you feel alone and stranded with nothing to do but sit tight and hope the boat doesn't sink right from under you. It's a nasty, clammy feeling that you can't wash off in a shower or drown with liquor. It's one of failure and hopelessness. It's not a depression, but how a depression would feel, like there's just no escaping the ultimate doom that is the course of your life, so why bother doing anything at all, least of all piddly shit like a comic book that maybe 20 people in all the world will read. It's a big black Nothing that you can't fight off, you can't sell enough crap on ebay to buy your way out of, and you can't put off because there are too many days between now and payday and not enough between now and the due date.

Somehow though, you take a smoke, settle down, drink a beer and realize that this situation happens about 1,523 times in each persons life. They reach a seemingly insurmountable obstacle and they lose all faith until they realize it's not as bad as all that and get past it. Some handle it better than others, some ignore it, some meet it head on, some falter a bit and need help. However it happens, you have to realize, you're not dead yet. Short of total incapacitation, there are usually options, things you can do to right the ship, get back on course. I have to realize that this comic book is mine, it's my outlet. As paltry and plastic as it seems to me right now, I have to keep in mind that to stop this would be to stop being myself.

I just hope I buy what I've been selling here.

Lil Miss Austin's birthday was last week. She's officially now 2 years (and 7 days) old and boy is she acting the part.

The birthday went off without a hitch. Only one couple and their kids didn't attend but I think they may have been out of town, so that's cool. There were 5 kids, including LMA that made it and the inflatable pool playground in the backyard was a big hit. We went with the Spongebob theme and there was Crabby Patties (White Castle burgers), Jellyfish (Jell-O cups turned over and set on gummy worms), Pirate Bootie (bowl of Pirate Bootie), punch and cake. The cake was pretty awesome, I'd purchased a mold for Mrs. Austin to use and we were very excited, but the task of decorating the cake had her not looking forward to the experience. It turned out just wonderfully and was the high point of the party, to us.

Lil Miss Austin was the perfect center of attention. She played well with the other kids, didn't fight, shared her cake and was very nice when saying Thank You and Goodbye. She was actually able to open the couple wrapped presents by herself and knew that the paper was not the fun part, but the item inside. Last year she was more fascinated with ribbon and tissue paper than the actual gift. Amazing what a difference a year makes. By next year I'm sure she'll be asking where her cell phone and computer are because these kids toys just aren't cutting it anymore.

I'd also like to offer mad props to Mrs. Austin's sister for sending a box full of loud musical instruments. A gift that guarantees we don't get to sleep late on Saturdays. It's only fitting since we've been doing the same for a couple years now with her kids, mildly amused at our own precociousness for giving another parent's kids loud noise-making toys. Well, it was apparently payback time. I'm sure it wasn't meant to be that way, there is a drumset in our garage, and all the kids in Mrs. Austin's family were in band or played an isntrument at some point, so it was a very cool gift.

She likes the triangle the best.

Over the next few months, Mr. Austin will be working on getting ready for a comic book convention in Chicago, so the updating, if any, will be done by Mrs. Austin. After the con, she will also be taking a photography class and the quality of pictures you see here will just floor you. Really.

For those that frequent this little log, we thank you for your continued patronage and apologize for the loss of old articles or pictures. The grandparents of Lil Miss Austin have plenty of emailed pics and they are the most important.

In passing I'd like to mention we went to Alegria last weekend and it was stellar. For those who haven't seen a Cirque du Soleil of any kind, might we suggest checking them out. The music and the pagentry more than make up for any naysayers who are afraid of clowns or aren't into theater. It really is a treat of sights and sounds.

Now onto the updates. Lil Miss Austin is finally learning to sleep in a bed, not a cage. We've removed the front of her crib and are working on letting her get in and out of bed on her own, and yes, falling out on her own. It's only been going on for a couple weeks and in that time she's fallen out a handful of times. Before you cal the CPA on us, it's a natural thing to go through. As long as there have been beds, people have fallen out of them. If if were more of a problem, there would be beds closer to the ground or floors with mattresses built in. Moving on.

She has been really good so far. One of the more adorable aspects has been her getting up and coming to the door, uncertain if she should come out. Imagine sitting in the living room and hearing the creak of a door, look down the hallway to see the door opened just a crack, then close suddenly as a little person on the other side sees you and realizes they may be in trouble. We end up calling down the hallway to her and she slowly opens the door and waddles out, sometimes still asleep. It more than makes up for the pooping in the bathtub and tantrums at the mall.

Well, the other day, the two parents were awoke by a small cry, but not a wail so we were unsure what to do. After a few moments, I decided to check on her to make sure she was ok. We have hardwood floors, so we've put large throw pillows below her bed in case she falls out. Falling on carpet is one thing. I open the door to find that she's not in her bed. I start looking around the room to see if she's wandered off, then back out into the hallway to see if she's slipped by me. Nothing. That's when I turn the light on and see this.






I mean really, how can you not love kids.

She was under there with her blankets and stuffed critters, almost like she had gone down there on purpose. Well, after a few minutes we put her back, not wanting her to sleep on the cold floor, but I was tempted to leave her there as it was kind of obvious she was terribly comfortable.

Lil Miss Austin got her first official hair cut for a kids' salon last night. She was wonderfully behaved and we have some pictures that I'll add later. Her hair was in her face but we didn't want to lose the lenght because, frankly, she has gorgeous hair. The place had merry-go-round style horses and cars for kids to sit on as well as a video screen in front of each playing cartoons. So she sat quietly watching Lilo & Stitch while Yvonne (I think) made short work of her 2 year old locks.

Mrs. Austin of course kept the hair and almost cried when they filled out a little certificate recording for history the First Haircut. It was neat.

There was a little Indian boy there with his parents and we saw something very interesting. The kid had thick curly groovy hair (he was about 18-24 months) and the parents had his head SHAVED!! We were shocked. The stylists explained that they do this all the time for Indian families. It's apparently a tradition that they'll take the first hair cut hair and send to to the country of their origin and the family will use it in a prayer service which ensures long, thick, strong hair for their remaining lives. I plan on doing some research on this, but it seems odd that they cut hair to ensure they have nice hair. Kid looked a little odd bald.

Mrs. Austin said she'd divorce me if I did that to our girl. One thing to note, even though she was a perfect angel throughout, it's hard to remember sometimes that she's just a kid.

Blogger support is non-existant. If you know ANYTHING about archiving with them, drop us a line would you? Even posts that are done here aren't being saved correctly. It's getting tiresome, but it's hard to argue with Free. I guess if I wanted to bitch, I'd pay for Moveable Type and set it up myself. Ah, where does the time go.

Lil Miss Austin is really coming along in the cognitive arena. Last weekend we were going to go outside to a pond, look for some ducks to feed. Mrs. Austin decided that the kid needed a nap first. She would say, "If you take a nap now, when you wake up we'll go Bye Bye." Now, we've tried this reasoning in the past, but a 18 month old brain just doesn't wrap around If, When, Later, Goto, Select*From....wait, that's different. Well anyway, she doesn't know bargaining or bribing. "You can go outside if you eat your asparagus." Well, Sunday she took her nap, we watched a movie and when she woke up, instead of crying or calling out she said, "I'm awake. Go Bye Bye now." This was two hours and several R.E.M. cycles later that she remembered what we told her. It was endearing and amazing at the same time. She's starting to develop temporal awareness and it's probably the most useful ability next to walking and talking I think she can get. Understanding what later is, or what happened yesterday is just monumental. Cats and dogs can walk and communicate, but they don't understand what it means to do something 'after' or 'before.' I'm quite happy with our little prodigy.

We also spent a good chunk o' bread at the party store getting several trinkets for her birthday, and event she probably won't remember regardless if she is developing that frontal lobe. All I did was pull the cart up to the Spongebob section and proceded to pick one of each. We've even got a pinata for Cripe's Sake. I plan on video taping an adult getting nutmeged with a stick so I can win 10gs from Bob Sagat.

Still working on getting the old posts up in here. Today is Lil Miss Austin's Spring Fling at her school. It's for Easter, but we like to say it's a spring party. She'll actually celebrate Ostara which is the actual event. It's also the celebration all of Christianity used but called it Easter and it just so happened their messiah was brought back to life on that day. (On the spring festival? Right of spring? Fertility and new life and all that? Yes. Wow, how'd they swing that? I don't know, I guess they must have tried to kill off all the Pegans so they wouldn't be pissed about stealing all their stuff. Oh, cool thanks.)

Anyway, it also means we get a three day weekend. Well, Mrs. Austin doesn't, but the kid and I do. I was hoping for some Me time to get some drawing done, but I can deal. Brother Austin is coming over and we're also doing a Murder Party tomorrow night, that should prove to be fun. They always are, drinking and laughing and shouting at the top of our lungs that so-and-so is actually the killer.

Still no solid birthday plans, but I hope to rectify that this weekend.

I also got a new camera and will be putting up more photos of the soon to be 2 year old in all her cuteness. And I don't care what the Gap talent search said, she's The Cutest.

Lil Miss Austin also has a new favorite movie: Dinosaur. We've had it since she was really little. We liked it in the theater so we bought it on DVD and she really never got into it when she was smaller. Lately thought she's been sitting with me and watching the Discovery Channel and really likes when they do Paleontology programs. She's also fond of the giant green godzilla on the Mangia Pizza truck we pass by on our way to school. So I figured I'd put in the DVD to test my new surround sound setup. Man, she freaked. It was the coolest thing she's seen since we got her that giant plush Elmo a year or so ago. Now you can forget Wiggles, Rollie Pollie Ollie, Spongebob, Elmo. She wants to watch Dinosaur.

Gotta love it.

Hello, this is Mr. Austin. I'm hesitant to post here, but since it's relatively quiet I suppose my thoughts won't impede much.

We're readying for Mrs. Squiggles' 2nd birthday party coming up in May. Of course the theme will be Spongebob, and there will be cakes and balloons and party favors and possibly a piñata. I'm looking forward to it probably more than most. The only problem is, I don't know who her friends are. Does a 2 year old have friends? She knows people at school, she knows them by name in fact. When I pick her up I always ask her who people are and she shouts their name as best she can (Jashon=Jackson, Bre-an=Brendan, etc.) So this will be more like last year in that we invite people that have kids for the sake of having kids there. I think to have a birthday party for a kid and only invite your friends would be weird and a little selfish. But honestly, I don't know that she'd know the difference or even remember. I know that recently, we had 4 kids at our house and the backyard was pack full of fun and chasing the dog and swinging and sliding and general "Hey look at me!" I hope to recapture that but the kids we're inviting are all roughly Rowan's aga and are just now learning to run, walk, talk in sentances. Am I forcing the issue by bringing together kids that don't know each other for the sake of having kids?

Mrs. Austin had the idea of inviting her friends from school, but I had to shoot it down because I don't know who her friends are. I would feel bad as well inviting only a select group of kids, leaving the rest to wonder why they didn't get invited. (Like she's that popular, that kids are just waiting for their invitation like some Charlie Brown clones or something.) So without inviting an entire class of 20 kids, I guess we'll be left with the ones we know but she may not.

In the end it really only matters to me. Until she's 4 or 5 and older, she's not going to know enough to want certain people over. She's only recently asking to see Grandpa and Grandma (I'll let all 48 of you decide which ones she's talking about) and her uncle and new aunt. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before she'll start asking to play with neighboor kids and if we can go see a certain relative, but that's another year away.

A year that will just fly by like the first 2 have.

So here it is folks. The new Life in Austin page. Welcome to it and brace yourselves for new and improved entries. Mr. and Mrs. Austin have been busy lately what with all the deaths and weddings lately but we promise to get you some fresh stalking material real soon. Honest. I'm shooting for updates once a week but probably more like once a month. This is, of course, depending on who kicks the bucket next so keep your fingers poised on those rosaries.

So a funny thing happened on the way to the Circle the other day. Mr. Austin's mom sent him an email asking if our darling little crab apple princess celebrates Easter. Not knowing exactly how to respond he forwarded the email to me. I composed this bad ass email back that he butchered all to hell. It was all about where Easter came from (not what you'd think) and how we celebrate the original holiday Ostara. It was poetic and eloquent and all flowery and stuff. His email back to her was (I swear) two lines. Thanks baby! Glad to see he can sum up a major religious holiday in 14 words or less. To be fair, I'm sure he could sum up The Great Guinness Toast the same way. Or maybe the origination of The Incredible Hulk.

Speaking of comics, he's gearing down for a convention in Chicago this summer. He trapped me the other night out by the garbage can and fired away a list of things he needs done before July. Poor thing. He's been trying to talk to me about this for something like 6 months now. It isn't that I'm more interested in (anything) something else. Its just that I can barely keep up with my own drama to remember his. He's all excited about it though. I wonder if I should wait until a week before and tell him that we can't afford for him to go. It'd be fun to see his head explode. I'm evil that way.

The bluebonnets are back. Woo-Hoo! I'm such a Texas girl y'all. I could be Sandy Squirrel but I'd never leave Austin for Bikini Bottom. Squidward weirds me out too much. Plus, I can't make a lasso in the shape of Sponge Bob. We all have our faults.

We went skiing in Colorado about a month or so again. Mr. Austin finally got up on skis. How do you live your entire life surrounded by snow and mountains and never go skiing? It is beyond me. Anyway, he loved it. Bastard is better than me! Of course, it was only my second time, but still! We got this one picture where I swear he was smiling so hard he must have gotten a cramp. I love going up to Denver. Built in baby sitters!! We totally abused the hell out of his dad and step mom. I felt bad, but not bad enough to not leave her. I miss that about not having any older relatives in town. All my friends always get to go out and remember why they got married in the first place because the grandparents are close by. Not us. We just sit here and look at each other across the dinner table trying to remember who that other person is and why on earth we are living together. Then we look at our little girl and remember why. Self defense. If we weren't married one of us would have to try to raise her alone. Oh hell no! I'm all about tag-team parenting. What? She poured yogurt on her head? Not it! What? She's drinking poopy bath water again? Not it! And why does she poop in the bath tub anyway? I'm convinced it is so that she can watch mommy's face contort and daddy get all red trying not so swear.

All right kids, that's all for now. Happy Hour calls. Keep your horns up and heads down.

The Terrible Twos and Moving Right Along

Rowan's not quite 2 but I can start to see what people are talking about with the tantrums and the attitudes. She's been testing our boundaries for about 6 months now and exerting her own individuality. I'm sure it will get more prevalent as we approach 2 and 3 years old, by that time she'll be able to communicate better and understand more and hopefully that will die down. Until she's a teenager anyway.



So not much more to say about that, I just took a bunch of pictures last night and wanted to get one or two of them up. I'm also mentioning that this site is growing to the point that one page hit per day and Geocities shuts it down, so I'm planning on moving all to my comic book page in a arduous, painfull process that may involve dissolving this page altogether and starting over. I'm going to keep all the pictures of course, they being a great chronicle of Rowan's growing up, but there's just too much here, it's too spread out, and it's too big for a free site anymore. There may not be room over on the comics page either, but I'll have to test that out. I honestly don't know how many people visit here so it's hard to take that into account, whether to foot the bill for another page or not.



With that being said, I'm also going to try an reinstate some more current entries into AutoNeurotica and the Life In Austin section. Cheryl and I haven't done a whole lot that requires many updates, the holidays and family responsibilites sapping our play funds (and frankly, pictures and stories of us going to the movies probably isn't going to thrill audiences) so while I'll try to keep some content in there, don't expect it all to be Pulitzer material. And the teacher section is a slow bit too, I haven't had anything from The Teacher in a while, but that will also be moving over. I'm sure the page will get a new look, new navigation, new everything. I'm even considering doing a weekly comic strip about something. I was thinking either Parenting, Sci-Fi geekness, Comic Book geekness, Tech Support jobs or all of the above. I don't have the time, manpower or funds to make this a hot, topic rich, all in one search engine, trivia, webhosting, wallpaper, news feed kinda site, but I try to keep it entertaining. So, look for some changes and I promise to keep it updated here.

---

Simmah down nah.

So I'm going to turn 30 this year, in about 5 months. Things have started to creep around my head as this stigmatic age approaches, and it's not just my hairline. I'm starting to compare myself to my parents more and more. Before it was just I thought I had sounded like my mom or said something like my dad, but lately it's more esoteric. I've started wondering what they were thinking when they were my age, how evolved were they mentally and emotionally and socially. I mean, I'm 29 and I watch Dragonball Z and collect Star Wars Lego sets and play video games. Was my dad doing things like this in 1984? I know there weren't the video games back then like today, but surely there was Saturday morning cartoons.

I think the big thrust of this is understanding myself as a grown up but with this feeling mentally of a child. It's both a benefit and a detriment to be in this flux state, to be old and have the experience, but still "young at heart" and not use your wisdom as you should. I don't like worrying about 401ks and insurance and how much equity is in my house and what tax bracket I'm in. I'd rather draw more and write in here and play with Rowan and go to a movie. Yes it's not fiscally wise, but who cares? I don't. I worry about it just enough to motivate me into helping Cheryl with the bills, but 2 hours later I've lost it again and I'm looking for the next escape. Most of my friends are younger, now that I've moved to Texas. When I was in Colorado, I was among the younger members of the group. So this age is starting to wear me around the edges and I'm starting not to look good.

It will repeat itself I'm sure when Rowan is my or Cheryl's age. She'll compare herself to us, just as we do now. Cheryl is always asking if she's acting like her parents, and it's always in a negative way. I do the same thing, her parents do the same thing. No one wants to turn out like their parents, even though their folks might be good people. There are a lot of qualities I'd like from my parents, but all you can end up seeing is the negativity. So just like me, Rowan will be worried that she'll grow up with a temper and avoidance of conflict issues, or control issues, depending on what parent she emulates more. Hopefully she'll grasp early that I'm just as mortal and fallible as any other human and she'll just love me for me no matter how many times I've replayed Star Wars X-Wing Alliance.

Bella Karolyi would be proud.

21 months now and she's down summersaults. She actually did one a few months ago, but lately wouldn't do another one without asking for help. It was pretty pathetic, she would put her head on the ground and start to tip over, but because her leg/head ratio is still that of a baby, it's hard to push over that head and roll onto the back. She can do it, but I'm constantly worried about her little neck snapping while she's balanced like a break dancer on her head.

One a slightly more somber note, I've decided to quit smoking (or at least try.) I was making dinner with Cheryl a few days ago and a sharp pain hit me somewhere below my rib cage. No radiated pain down the left arm, no shortness of breath, no nausea. It just hurt and wore me out. Now I'm freaked out about every little pain I have thinking it's going to be the last one. It's my biggest fear in life currently, that I won't be around for Rowan as she grows older. I'm sure there's a line when you have to say, "Ok, I don't need to be around for her anymore" like when they're 20 or so, maybe younger. But these next 15 years or so, I really want to be there. REALLY! The fact that I might not be because of a freak car wreck or heart attack or electrical mishap shakes my core to the foundation.




I'm sure to other parents this comes as no surprise, you want to be there for your kids as long as you can and are able to, but, you don't want them to die before you, making your duty 100% complete. You were there as long as they needed you, period. They don't need you anymore. Right now, if I were to kick off, I don't think Rowan would remember me or know I was gone. She's a bright kid, brighter than others I'm sure, but even still, she's not 2 yet. I don't remember what I was doing around that age. If one of my parents were removed from my life, I don't know that I'd have many memories of them. I don't want her to not know who I am, and I don't want to miss her growing up.


The thing that frightens me most is that it may be too late. Smoking for a good many years, not eating really well for those same years. I have more caffeine in my blood that white blood cells. Then throw in concerns about random brain hemorrhaging and you've got a perfect reason for acid reflux drug research. I'll worry about stupid shit like that until I've actually given myself whatever I'm worrying about. For such a "let it go" kinda guy, I'm a horrible hypochondriac. Now it's no longer that I think I'm going to die, it's that I really have a reason to live.

---

It's notepad time.

Seriously, I need to write down the ideas I have at 11 o'clock at night so this page doesn't start filling up with blathering rants on how wicked cool my kid is compared to the rest of the world. Luckily I had some backup in the form of The Haircut.



Rowan got her first haircut about a week ago. She was constanly pushing her hair out of her face AND trying to avoid all hair clips, bobs, pins, crimps, scrunchies and barrets. Her state of bliss seemed to come with wearing this striped knit cap and we just couldn't let her go around like that in public without making up some excuse about how her patriarcal DNA was to blame and we're hoping she can lead a normal life. So we got a few snips in while Spongebob was on.

We were both a little leary about it, although it was Cheryl doing the cutting while I sat acting very partisan to the whole episode. Contrary to what I thought, she didn't care much about the whole business. She's pretty hip on washing her own face and hands, helping getting dressed, and holding still while you put her hair up, so this probably didn't seem like the catastrophe we'd thought it would be. I was prepared for screaming and running with scissors while we tried to convince her that it wouldn't hurt (much like those shots at the doctors, which do hurt, so I can see her point) but that never happened. In the end, it took about 30 mins to make 2 cuts. Cheryl was more freaked out that Rowan was. Very gunshy about making her child look like Boo Radley, I can also see her point. My artistic sense would have kept me snipping until it was straight, and having never cut a toddlers hair, would have resulting in a bald girl, eek.



As you can see it didn't turn out bad at all. In fact, where before, her in pigtails was merely adorable, it's now severe enough to rule the world. Seriously, it's cute as shit and I'm not afraid to say it. It's also a sad day, like most are with a fledgling human on board. This is just another sign that she's not a baby, another milestone on her way to independent person. Cheryl wants her hair to be long, like her mother's. She's got a good genetic combination for some killer strands, so we'll see if the Crystal Gayle approach yeilds fruit or not.

On a developmental note, let's just say sometimes I wish she was confined to a bouncy chair again. Lately, we've become the bouncy chairs and it's anothe reason my parents are loving hearing about it. I'll try to remember what it was I was going to write for real and get to it later.

My kid can beat up your kid.

So I often talk with other parents about their kids. It never starts that way though. It always starts with "How was your weekend" or "Did you see this movie" and it always boils down to, "Well MY kid can read sanscrit and she was potty trained at 13 months." Is it vain to talk like that? I'm horribly proud of Rowan, just as my friends are proud of their kid. Even if our or their child ISN'T Mozart or Bobby Fischer, we still marvel at their accomplishments.

But that still doesn't fill the void in long distance calls when all the stories have been exhausted and you're left with "So what have YOU been up to?" You can usually tell the people who really have something to talk about because their conversations lack the retelling of events. What's your job now? Are you doing ok? How's your wife/husband/significant other? Did you get snow? I feel bad for them and I feel bad for myself. Are we at the age when it doesn't matter what we do anymore? Are our children now the masks we wear for the world to see? I can start to understand why little league sports are so big now, if the child does well, people will think well of the parents. That's rather deductive and hardly fair, but emotional attachment and social plays rarely are.

With that in mind I think parents should make a concerted effort to really try to get to know your friends more. I realize you have your hands tied with children, but if you can get a friend to open up to you with some bit of information that has nothing to do with their offspring, it's very likely they will cherish that exchange more and something more concrete can be form out of it. If not, continue to spew facts and data about your sons and daughters and you'll at least create a fan club for them and some possible baby sitters.

I don't want to sound insensitive about this, but sometimes I just feel bad for people that I tell Rowan's accomplishments to, especially those who don't have kids. To them, I might as well be talking about another hobby or ideal or genre of movie they have no desire to be involved in and it's rather alienating. So to be fair, since I can't always control who has kids and who doesn't, why not play to the other side. It's not a good side or bad side, and I don't want them to feel like they are less for not having kids, and that's the point. It's like ruining the movie if you talk about it too much.

Should old acquaintance be forgot...

Hey! Happy New Year! Goodbye 2002. I can't say last year was a bad year at all. It's come to my attention that this page is actually read by some people so a partial resolution this year will be to keep it updated. We will probably be spending some loot to host it somewhere so we can put up as many pictures as possible.



A lot of good things happened and very few bad things happened. It was the Even Steven Palindrome Year. 2003 looks to be just as promising. Rowan will officially be 2 in 5 months, although she's acting like a 2 year old now. We cleaned up our backyard after a few weeks (months) of neglect and were pretty impressed that she was able to climb up and slide down the slide her self. She also loves swinging but isn't tall enough or spatially aware enough to pump her legs. She smiles and says "wow" all the same.



Last weekend, a friend of mine brought his kid over for a play date. He needed ot give his wife a break from all the holiday hosting she had done so the two of them came over for some good ol' fashion playing with blocks. We actually watched some Wiggles and went to the park as well. This kid, Noah, just turned 3 and it's amazing how much a year difference makes. He responds to requests with actual words, he knows songs word for word, he knows how to ask for things. Just a year younger, Rowan is still in the low double digit vocabulary, cries rather than asks for things and still talks gibberish. It's conversational gibberish, so don't get me wrong. Maybe I need to take a correspondence course.

Another things I'm waiting for is attitude, personality. I know its there and perhaps I can't see it. We have another friend who's 3 year old is just a little bad-ass. He's always sort of calm and aloof and then every one in a while will go completely wacko and start talking nonsense. It's like Jack Nicholson as a tyke. I know Rowan is a happy kid; cheerful, gregarious, and always laughing. But I had always thought that all kids were like that. I'm coming to find out that they're not. A lot of kids are more mellow and even tempered (relatively speaking, not even tempered like you and me.) I expect that Rowan's personality at this stage is a good blend of her parents. She's got my childlike fascination with the world and social prescence and Cheryl's love of life and willingness to just laugh out loud. It's better than other trait mixes I'm sure.

I'm eager for her to grow up so I can see who she'll be.

---

"...I wann bang on these drums all day."

As a parent, I have this pattern starting to develop in my behavior toward Rowan. You know those stories you hear from friends and the media where a parent tries too hard to make their child do things they wish they had done as kids, like play football or be a cheerleader or something? That's how I feel sometimes and I'm afraid of it. I think that if I could teach her something now, early, she could make use of it later in life and not have to spend time learning and relearning skills. A few good examples are hockey and drums. I really like watching hockey, I enjoyed what few times I played hockey, but I became a fan of the game late in life, I didn't skate on a frozen pond when I was 3 years old, so skating and the game weren't second nature. With Rowan I'm tempted to start her in something early and hope that she can carry that through her days.




But with what? Drums? Music in general? Gymnastics? Soccer? Art? It's easy to think that because she likes the sound of a drumstick against a tom drum that she'll be the next John Bonham? Just because she likes furiously scribbling on my sketch pad, should I call Stan Lee and have him open up a position drawing The Silver Surfer? I don't think it'd be a good idea to hold out hope on any of these things. But coming from an artistic family, and having Cheryl's family have such a musical history, I'm constantly looking for some hidding talent that I can nudge ever so slightly, even if it is errantly.


That's not to say she won't decide she likes to do something as she gets older. I'm also not even hazarding the impression that my parents weren't the same way, but I just floundered too much to make any extra curicular activity stick. I often wonder if my parents wanted me to be an artist or a singer or an astronaut or if they had more humble and noble wishes like making sure I was always on time to school and didn't get sick a lot. It's hard having lofty aspirations while keeping your feet planted firmly on the ground. It's also hard to have your feet on the ground while chasing after a 18 month old with your drum stick.

---

Hallelujah!

Yes, yes. Two entries in less than a week, what is the world coming to? But believe me when I say we have big news. Rowan took her first potty in a potty chair! Huzzah!! Now, I realize that this isn't a photo op, and even if it were there wouldn't be many people super keen on viewing any snapshots. However, since this is such a momentous occasion, I feel the need to convey to you how happy we are with the event. I will therefore express the events via interpretive dance...

...4th position...

...and JUMP...

...and relax.

So you can plainly see what a monumental occasion this is. It also marks the beginning of the end as far as what we need to do for Rowan to make sure she grows into a well-balanced human being. Yes it's human invention to sit on a porcelain bowl to vacate waste rather than just let fly in the woods, but hey, do as the Romans do. It's not like we're teaching her the finer points of the Republican party or anything.



I do feel a bit misty eyed, though. Can't help it. As (oddly) excited as we both were last night, I couldn't help thinking immediately of all the things I have left to teach her. All the FEW things left she actually needs from me. I think in terms of "If she were left in a strange part of town, could she survive." Now? Probably not. In 5 months? Maybe. She can ask for things, cry when only hurt or hunger. Walk. Soon she won't need diapers or help changing clothes. She needs us less and less and while today is exciting, it's sad. She's no longer a baby, she's a little girl.



But I have to say, when the day comes that she no longer needs diapers will be a happy day indeed. By choosing cloth diapers, we relegated ourselves to a seeming eternity of wash. It's not as wicked gross as you might think, but it's still a lot of laundry. I can't help but think that what we did was in Rowan's best interest, and it was the right call. The fact still remains that we will be without a major task and that can only mean one thing...

...more time for video games.

---

User your words.

Just an update. Rowan is almost 18 months old and she's pretty much able to repeat any 1-2 syllabel word you throw at her. She's also got a few 3 syllabyl words under her belt. It's amazing how fast she picks things up, the next trick is to have her use them when she wants something rather than saying "uh huh huh huh huh waaahhh!" Right now her repeating is much like a parrot mimicking speech and I'm waiting for the crisp clear "I love you daddy but you're an idiot" to tumble from her mouth.

Anyway, here's what she knows now.

Words Rowan knows.

Hi
Hello (heh o)
No
Head
Eyes (eyesh)
Nose
Ear
Hair
Knees
Foot/Feet
Shoe
Sock
Up
Down
Back
Hinnie
Blanket (benkie)
Pooh (the bear)
Uh oh
Hot (hot? with waving hands)
Hat (sounds like hot)
Diaper (bahpoo)
Wiggle (wih wih)
Elmo (loudest most clear word she has)
Ernie
Oscar (awku)
Baby
Bert (boit)
Belt (boit)
Bird (boit)
Seat
Moon
Stars
Cloud
Sky
Eat (eat?)
Bath
Nite Nite
Octopus
Happy (happy? to you)
More (more?)
Milk (milk?)
Water (wawa)
Cheerio (chee oh)
Thank you (dih tsew)
Walk (walk?)
Mommy (mommy?)
Daddy
cold
tree
flower
bug
car
truck
off (as in the light switch)
Bye-bye
tofu
cracker
juice
I love you (yuv u)

Most of the alphabet

Dog (oo oo)
Bird (bee bee)
Cow (mooo)
Frog (reebeet)
Cat (maow)
Sheep (baa)
Duck (cahk cahK)
Airplane (wssh with arms out)
Sleeping (shh, finger to lips)
Up-side-down (tries to stand on her head)
signs-
more
pretty
please
thank you
daiper

can give hugs and kisses, high fives (and gives high fives back)

"...the tooth...the tooth..."

Rowan had her first major bloody accident last night. We're at a local eatery that was low on high chairs so Rowan ended up sitting with us at a booth. Well, sitting is a relative term. Cheryl was sitting, I was sitting, Rowan was climbing. No booster, no chair. She had to stand in order to reach the table to eat. After a few minutes of her coating the vinyl with cottage cheese and peaches, the slick surface caused her to slip and plant her little baby mouth right on the edge of the table. It was horrible. I've never seen a baby crying with a mouth full of blood and I never want to again.

We rushed to bathroom (both of us, ladies room, convention be damned) and proceded to swab her mouth with wet paper towels to see how bad the damage was. No lost teeth, no loose teeth, no major gum damage. We still went to the emergency room, then left after about 45 minutes of sitting there. It boiled down to a split lip on the inside that no one could have done much about anyway, but the desire is to do a head x-ray to make sure nothing is chipped, cracked or fractured.




It's gut wrenching to watch a almost-toddler humbled like that. It really makes you want to hold them forever, lock them in a bubble and not let the world ever EVER touch them. The proprieters of the restaurant we're all talking about giving us a free dinner, seeing if we needed anything, you know, basic CTA so we don't sue. All I wanted to do was remove myself from the situation. The child was already hurt, there's nothing they could do to fix it short of paying for her years of therapy that will undoubtedly result. She'll never be able to eat at a salad bar again, total fear of vegetables, not to mention booth seats. Cheryl turned into, as she called it, The Momma Lion. Even I was fair game when her baby was injured. Teeth were bared, the owners were lucky she was already buckled in or there would have been more than Rowan plasma spilled that day. Not being the conflict seeker that I am, I wanted to get my family away from there as fast as possible. Cheryl asked how I can not be mad at them for not having enough chairs. I am mad at them, incensed even. They should have a high chair for every table in there. If not, say "we don't have a high chair, would you like to wait?"


To be honest, I don't know why I didn't get as animated as society would have allowed. I suppose I'm a coward, I just don't want to be in a fight. When the owner and the staff approached our car as we were leaving, I could feel the blood boil in my ears and all I could think to do was leave before I started punching people. They caused my child pain by their ineptitude and they deserved to feel the same pain. A good bloodied set of teeth oughta do it.

---

Spare the child, spoil the rod.

I had something pithy to write here, thought of it this weekend, but alas the Monday doldrums have wiped those ideas clean. I'm just going to type until I start boring myself.

As Rowan starts understanding words more and more, less and less of her actions are dictated by instinct. She now reasons, she is starting to understand actions and reactions and consequences. She's testing our limits more and more. She knows what a diaper is, when it needs attention and where to go in the house to get that attention. She knows what up and down is by her physical location and other objects location. She even gets confused by the hallway light switches. You know the kind that you can have in the "on" position but have to push down to get the light to come on because there's two. She'll grab hold of the switch and look at the light, the switch is already on, but the light isn't. She'll sit there and grunt and push with all her might, but she won't be able to get the light to come on. So while she's able to think now, she's not able to think outside the box yet. Everything is still pretty linear.



She's also starting to carry on conversations with you. The words don't mean anything, but you can tell the pattern is there. It starts with dada or mama, you say what, she'll speak in chinese/pig latin for a short burst, you say, oh really, she says "yeah," then bye bye as she closes the door on your face. It's unbearably cute and pretty fantastic from an anthropomorphic stand point. She's evovling to fit inside the only norm she knows, her parents. We're shaping how she talks, walks, and thinks. It really hit home lately that I'm the catalyst for how she ends up in life. I'm sure most people realize this to a certain extent. But I'm talking about something more esoteric, less corporial. I'm talking about paths of thought to conclusion and the lilt of a voice and mannerism of understanding. It's more than just what you say and how you discipline and what music you listen to and what shows you watch and what games you play. It's your posture and your response time and the pressure of your touch and how you hold a fork and what sounds you make when you hug (some people squeek, some grunt, some sigh, you never know.)



Yes your DNA and your partner's DNA make the child look a certain way, and in some cases act a certain way (for instance, my grandma, my dad and his brother, me and my brother and now Rowan, all scratch our arms in our sleep. Only weird because I don't know anyone else who does that.) But if you take that child and put them with a different family, what you have is someone who doesn't look like those people, but acts like those people. It's fairly obvious, but like I said, I had a great idea to write about, but it was lost somewhere.

---

One Year

Cheryl said something the other day that struck me as odd. Rowan had just looked up at her from under a table, put her head on her knee and said "Hi." Cheryl almost started crying and said, "I don't have enough room in my heart for all the love I have for her." Fair enough. I'm sure a lot of parents say that. Most of us feel that as well. You just look at that little cherub face with those innocent, impressionable eyes and think, "You are a creature of magic and wonder and I'm so happy you chose me." I'm not as vocal about it as my lovely wife, she tends to speak her mind and emotions, and I tend to get ulcers. But it made me think a bit on the word and idea of Love. We were talking about having a 2nd monster this last weekend while traipsing around the Houston Zoo, and later when she said that I started wondering if I'd have enough room in my heart for another? Would it be fair to try to love them as much as Rowan? Is it fair even to think such thoughts? Now I know you're all saying that's heartless and cold and how could I even think that I'd love a second child less that the first. But think about it, if you're the 6th or 7th child, looking back, did it seem you were pretty much left to do whatever you wanted? Did it seem like no one was around? Did it seem like no one cared? I think logically you do throw a lot of your love and emotion and energy into a first child and it degrades after that. Humans just don't have the staying power.




Now I'm not saying I'm going to let our second child run around with a loaded weapon, scissors and an open milk container, swearing as they careen naked around the red light district, but I'm wondering how much actual love I'll be able to give them. I'm sure it will be considerable. I'm afraid of doing the Rowan Comparison Dance, especially if the second is a boy. There will be no end to "Man, Rowan never cried like this." "Rowan was always so happy, why isn't this one?"


It may not seem like it, but we are all capable of doing that now. We have a beagle that no body is really happy with right now. We're trying but it's very hard. Chimaera is very loving and friendly and protective, but she's also crazy and hyper and rambunctious and she sheds all over the place. We're afraid of admitting that she's just not our type and maybe needs a new family. I compare her to Rowan all the time and that's not fair. There's no way Chimaera will ever be able to respond to "What does a cow say" with "Moo." If I asked her that, her little ears would prick up and her head would cock to the side and that'd be it. Then she'd try to jump on me and probably knock something over. Does that mean I don't love her? I don't know. It's hard to admit you don't love something anymore. It's hard to admit you may not love something as much. It's hard to admit that you may in fact not have enough love in your heart for all the things in your life that need it. I'm truly afraid something will get pushed out...

---