I’ve been taught to avoid excuses, first by my parents and then later in the wisdom of those I read. It was the latter that taught me an excuse for many things should never be offered when this a better explanation: “I didn’t care enough to produce the outcome you were looking for.” This is especially true when one is late. For years, if I was late, I would compose the reason in my head, what the extenuating circumstances were, why this was unusual, how I would correct it in the future. Then, with embarrassment, I realized these thoughtfully-composed reasons skirted reality: they were simply another way to say I hadn’t cared enough to be on time. So, while I have many interesting reasons (excuses) why I haven’t written here lately, it is quite simply because I haven’t cared enough to do it. But, I can’t let my birthday weekend come and go without listing the details of it. And also, I should write here more frequently.
I went to bed on Tuesday evening, expecting to head to work the following morning, a little disappointed that our baby girl’s due date, July 22, had come and gone without a hint of her arrival. But instead of sleep, I felt Mykala’s gentle nudge and heard her voice just a few hours later at 3am: “My contractions started, I think.” She sounded so calm that it took me the better part of an hour to fully wake up and realize that this is The Big Show. We began timing duration and interval of contractions, and true to my computer geekery, I created a new text document in BBEdit that I would later save as labor.txt, here’s a snippet:
What a great birthday. I got to sleep in for real and then as if still in a dream, I opened my eyes to a perfect, sunny day. Not too hot or cold, and beautiful. Mykala and I had a spectacular brunch at Woodbury Café; she gave me a card that made me tear up as I read it. Then we went home and sat outside on our patio and actually caught the first sun rays of the year. We’re a little pink right now.
It’s bitterly cold, the kind of cold that elicits pain the minute the wind hits your skin, and we got some delicious Indian takeout for Mykala’s birthday. We’re sitting at home surrounded by gifts from people who love my wife, and this is precisely the type of moment from which you want to build your life. Happy Birthday, my love.
It’s almost mid-April and we’re coming into a huge snowstorm. They’re saying somewhere between 8 and 20 inches starting tonight and continuing tomorrow. Mykala has planned a Christmas dinner for tomorrow night, the Santa nightlight is plugged in, I’m listening to Christmas music (“Christmas with the Rat Pack”), and getting a game of TextTwist going.
Mykala made this incredible vegan quiche for my birthday. Wish I had gotten the depth of field right on this one, but I think the picture still captures the deliciousness.
I had a wonderful weekend with Mykala: we celebrated my birthday Friday night with a little dental school shirt shopping and Cheesecake Factory dinner. It’s almost warm enough to eat outside — summer is still struggling to get its act together. I pretended to be warm for the duration of our meal out on the restaurant’s patio… but I somehow don’t think I was fooling anyone. If Mykala asks though, I was perfectly toasty — I have to maintain some masculine bravado, even if it’s only in the realm of temperature tolerance.
