August 2006 Archives

Today is the first day of the new "Mom needs to work, and Zoe needs her father" arrangements, where Zoe and I spend the morning together while Amy works at the school, a nanny (wonderful neighbor named Claudia) spends the early afternoon with Zoe, and Amy comes home from school around 3:30 to take over.

For my part, I love the fact that I get to spend the first waking hours with Zoe, because for all the fuss and muss she might throw at us late at night, she is the most delighful child ever in the morning. This morning, she woke up around 9am and waited dutifully in her crib, talking to herself about who-knows-what and playing with her feet while her dad warmed up a bottle of milk for her 9am feeding.

After she ate, we made faces at each other for an hour and then she slept while I tidied up the house and got ready for work.

But all of that was the easy part. Now I'm at work, where I'll be sitting in front of my computer until at least 8:30pm, working very hard, but already missing my family.

The problem--when you peel away all of the layers--boils down to this: we live in South Florida. South Florida is expensive.

But for now this is our place, so we're going to make the best of it.

Amy and Zoe are in Kentucky this week, on a family errand. Her grandfather is not well, and she headed up there to spend the week with him, making audio recordings of his many stories.

He has quite a story--one worth writing down--and she hopes to write a book about him.

What that leaves me is alone in this house with the cats, the dog, and the canaries. It amazes me how much this place feels empty (small though it may be) without the two most important ladies in my life.

Amy reported that Zoe was amazingly good on the plane, which is a huge relief. Not that she would have cared if Zoe cried the whole way, but I'm glad that my little girl didn't make the flight hard on the other passengers.

It's incredible. She's only been alive for just a bit more than 12 weeks, and now she's spending a week a thousand miles away. Bah. I'm going to bed.

Two nights in a row now, Zoe has slept long enough that Amy is up before she is.

Thursday, she missed two naps in a row. One because some neighbor-friends came over to visit with Amy and the baby and the other because the girls came by the office to meet my co-workers. Usually missing naps is a terrible thing--my brother says, "sleep begets sleep," and I think he's quite right. But for whatever reason, she slept like 10 hours Thursday night.

Ten. Hours.

And last night she slept eight hours. Could have been longer, but I got her up. We still want to make sure she's getting enough to eat, often enough throughout the day.

I know I'm just like every father in the world when I say this, but I think I've got the most beautiful, the smartest, the most delightful, the most aware and attentive little girl in the whole world. I cannot wait to see what comes next.

Idiocy, apparently, is reaching new heights. Can someone please explain to me where Brooklyn, Mia, Rich, Bill, Robert, and the rest of the hatemail specialists get off sending email to Heather telling her what she can do with dooce.com?

It's funny (not HAH HAH funny . . . more of that ironic half-laugh funny) to me for two reasons:

First, though some of them talk like they've been reading Dooce for a goodly long time, apparently they're all oblivious to Ms. Armstrong's personality. She doesn't take shit from anyone, and I don't blame her. She's not going to change Dooce, or take it down, or spend another second thinking about any of your suggestions, folks. Nope. If you're especially idiotic, maybe she'll make fun of you.

And second, Heather Armstrong owns and operates Dooce.com. It's hers. What makes the people who write hatemail think that they even deserve a read? They might get it, but that's just Ms. Armstrong being kind.

For my part, I'll take Dooce in whatever flavor she's serving up today. If it's not sparklingly brilliant (as every monthly letter to Leta has been) I know it's at least going to be fun.

When I was living in the Pacific Northwest, if I needed to clear my head—to get some relief from whatever ailed me—I would just go for a hike or a climb. Getting outside—especially way outside, where the air is clearer, the trees are really tall, and there's a vista around most corners—was really good for me.

South Florida isn't really known for great hiking. I haven't found anything to replace it yet, either.

I used to go to this gym in Miami that isn't bad at all. But it's a long way (an hour each direction really cuts into an evening, if you know what I mean) and there isn't a strong community of climbers there.

Once, when we first got here a few years ago, Amy and I went for a walk in a park in Coral Springs. It was a boardwalk (to protect the marshy landscape) and only like a quarter of a mile long. But something about the tree cover, the thickness of it all, reminded me a bit of being home. It felt right. But at that length, it would get old fast.

We've been in the Everglades, but yech, it's beautiful but not much to look at after a while. Once you've seen a few miles of it, it all starts to look the same. Worth the trip, but it wouldn't renew me like landscape does.

I've got to find something, or we've got to get out of here. Especially now that Zoe is here. I'm desperate to take her hiking!

I can't really explain the incredibly long dry spell--during which time I haven't just neglected this space, I haven't written anything at all.

I think part of it is certainly the move to Florida. I'm still getting used to this place, and I miss the inspiration that came with living every day in a very special city, in a very special state, in an incredibly special part of the world.

Not that there aren't good things about South Florida. But I wasn't really made for this place, and I can promise you, I was made for the Pacific Northwest. Or somewhere like it. Maybe New Zealand.

In the meantime, I got married, we of course made the move down here, we've filled our house with animals (cats, dogs, canaries, lovebirds) and finally, we had ourselves a little girl who I think is the most beautiful thing ever. Ever.

In the midst of all of that, I haven't forgotten how wonderful it is to write at least once a week, if not more often. I've just forgotten how to do it.

In case you didn't know: