Saturday, January 30, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Let it Snow!!
For once, the weather wizards were correct, and there's 4 inches or so of snow on the ground now. It's supposed to keep snowing, off and on, the rest of the night and into tomorrow morning, so maybe we'll end up with 2 or 3 more inches of snow. Already, it's the biggest snow we've had in Nashville in 3 or 4 years, I think.
I just returned from a quick walk outside. The silence is amazing, probably because living in the city, I'm used to constant background noise. Traffic, trains, etc. Tonight, nothing. I walked down the middle of the street and never saw a car. Everyone is home, bundled up, probably asleep. It's so peaceful out. It's bright, too, almost like it's daylight, with the sky a light gray and the brilliant white snow on the ground.
Man, I love it when it snows.
Grandma!
Running Man
Sunday, January 24, 2010
"Bye Bye Dada"
All weekend long, John Patrick has been saying, "bye bye Dada," which is cool, because he hasn't really started stringing words together, until now.
Also, he's been saying, "bye bye Carley" (his nanny) or, at least, his version of it. He says, "bye bye," then makes a motorboat sound with his lips followed by an "ah" sound. He does this in response to Jude and I asking him to say, "bye bye Carley," so we know that's what he's trying to say. It's been really funny. It's like he speaking a completely different dialect.
Tonight, our friends, Hal Humphreys and Kim Green stopped by and soon enough, John Patrick was saying "bye bye Ha," for "bye bye Hal." I love it!
Also, he's been saying, "bye bye Carley" (his nanny) or, at least, his version of it. He says, "bye bye," then makes a motorboat sound with his lips followed by an "ah" sound. He does this in response to Jude and I asking him to say, "bye bye Carley," so we know that's what he's trying to say. It's been really funny. It's like he speaking a completely different dialect.
Tonight, our friends, Hal Humphreys and Kim Green stopped by and soon enough, John Patrick was saying "bye bye Ha," for "bye bye Hal." I love it!
Streetcar
Audobon Aquarium of the Americas
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Travelin' Man
Late Thursday night, we made it to our hotel in New Orleans, in the French Quarter. Eventful trip? Yes, to say the least.
First of all, as we trooped through the airport, we looked like a band of gypsies. Three suitcases, a hanging bag for my suits, a laptop bag, a camera bag, a diaper bag and a car seat, attached to one of the suitcases with a bungee cord. Oh, and J.P. rolling along contentedly in his stroller. Seriously, I bet people who saw us thought we were leaving town permanently.
The suitcases we checked, the rest of the gear we carried on the airplane. As we boarded, I struggled to carry the car seat down the narrow aisle of the airplane. I carried it in two hands, in front of me, with my suit bag banging into the heads of people sitting in aisle seats behind me. Once I reached an empty row of seats, a flight attendant took one look at me, tapped me on the shoulder, and said, "sir, may I assist you?" She proceeded to belt the car seat into the window seat in about 30 seconds, a task that would've taken me 30 minutes.
Jude and J.P. followed a minute or two later, after she checked the stroller with the flight attendant, as they boarded the airplane. As we prepared for takeoff, Jude tried to strap J.P. into his car seat. That's where the fun began. He began screaming like a banshee, wailing and, generally having a nuclear meltdown. Among the unfortunate souls sitting near us, some made eye contact with us, nodded sympathetically and smiled (I call those the "I've been there" group), while others stared vacantly, shook their heads and turned away (I call those the "Oh, my God, please don't tell me there's a screaming brat on my flight" group).
Yes, instantly, my child had become "that baby," the one we've all dreaded having near us on a flight.
Once we were airborne, I pulled out the portable DVD player, slapped in a "Baby Einstein" DVD and prepared for the blissful sound of silence. I looked at the screen. Nothing. I punched buttons. Nothing. I looked closer. No power. J.P. continued screaming and crying. I began to cry (not really, but I thought about it).
Panicked, I switched to Plan B. I pulled out my laptop, inserted the "Baby Einstein" DVD and . . . wait on it . . . it worked! Instantly, J.P. stopped crying, started smiling and began pointing at the screen. Beautiful. Home free. Right? Wrong.
As we began our descent into New Orleans, J.P. began whimpering quietly. That's never a good sign, because normally it portends the arrival of an unpleasant substance. Vomit. True to form, J.P. began vomiting. We were somewhat prepared for this development, though, as we hadn't fed him or given him milk prior to the flight, so he wasn't able to projectile vomit (as he did the last time we were on an airplane with him, when we foolishly gave him milk to drink WHILE WE WERE IN THE AIR). Jude quickly pulled out a bag and prevented a bad situation from becoming downright ugly. Good save, Jude.
We landed, gathered our gear and began the trek to baggage claim, looking like a family convoy of some sort. Shortly thereafter, we loaded up our rental car - a minivan - and began the 30 minute drive into New Orleans. As we approached the French Quarter and our hotel, J.P. vomited again for good measure. Of course, it was more like the "dry heaves" at this point, because there really wasn't anything in his stomach to throw up.
We checked into the hotel and put him down to bed at 9:30 p.m. or so. I hustled out to find dinner for Jude and me. The Sugar Shack, a restaurant/bar nearby, was serving dinner until 10:00 p.m. I sat down at the bar, ordered takeout, took a deep breath and drank three beers in 20 minutes as I decompressed, thinking "what a long, strange trip it's been."
First of all, as we trooped through the airport, we looked like a band of gypsies. Three suitcases, a hanging bag for my suits, a laptop bag, a camera bag, a diaper bag and a car seat, attached to one of the suitcases with a bungee cord. Oh, and J.P. rolling along contentedly in his stroller. Seriously, I bet people who saw us thought we were leaving town permanently.
The suitcases we checked, the rest of the gear we carried on the airplane. As we boarded, I struggled to carry the car seat down the narrow aisle of the airplane. I carried it in two hands, in front of me, with my suit bag banging into the heads of people sitting in aisle seats behind me. Once I reached an empty row of seats, a flight attendant took one look at me, tapped me on the shoulder, and said, "sir, may I assist you?" She proceeded to belt the car seat into the window seat in about 30 seconds, a task that would've taken me 30 minutes.
Jude and J.P. followed a minute or two later, after she checked the stroller with the flight attendant, as they boarded the airplane. As we prepared for takeoff, Jude tried to strap J.P. into his car seat. That's where the fun began. He began screaming like a banshee, wailing and, generally having a nuclear meltdown. Among the unfortunate souls sitting near us, some made eye contact with us, nodded sympathetically and smiled (I call those the "I've been there" group), while others stared vacantly, shook their heads and turned away (I call those the "Oh, my God, please don't tell me there's a screaming brat on my flight" group).
Yes, instantly, my child had become "that baby," the one we've all dreaded having near us on a flight.
Once we were airborne, I pulled out the portable DVD player, slapped in a "Baby Einstein" DVD and prepared for the blissful sound of silence. I looked at the screen. Nothing. I punched buttons. Nothing. I looked closer. No power. J.P. continued screaming and crying. I began to cry (not really, but I thought about it).
Panicked, I switched to Plan B. I pulled out my laptop, inserted the "Baby Einstein" DVD and . . . wait on it . . . it worked! Instantly, J.P. stopped crying, started smiling and began pointing at the screen. Beautiful. Home free. Right? Wrong.
As we began our descent into New Orleans, J.P. began whimpering quietly. That's never a good sign, because normally it portends the arrival of an unpleasant substance. Vomit. True to form, J.P. began vomiting. We were somewhat prepared for this development, though, as we hadn't fed him or given him milk prior to the flight, so he wasn't able to projectile vomit (as he did the last time we were on an airplane with him, when we foolishly gave him milk to drink WHILE WE WERE IN THE AIR). Jude quickly pulled out a bag and prevented a bad situation from becoming downright ugly. Good save, Jude.
We landed, gathered our gear and began the trek to baggage claim, looking like a family convoy of some sort. Shortly thereafter, we loaded up our rental car - a minivan - and began the 30 minute drive into New Orleans. As we approached the French Quarter and our hotel, J.P. vomited again for good measure. Of course, it was more like the "dry heaves" at this point, because there really wasn't anything in his stomach to throw up.
We checked into the hotel and put him down to bed at 9:30 p.m. or so. I hustled out to find dinner for Jude and me. The Sugar Shack, a restaurant/bar nearby, was serving dinner until 10:00 p.m. I sat down at the bar, ordered takeout, took a deep breath and drank three beers in 20 minutes as I decompressed, thinking "what a long, strange trip it's been."
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Jane's Birthday!
Today, my mother, Jane Newman, turned 70. She's not too happy about it, either.
My sense of humor, my love of sports, my love of reading, the importance of family in my life, my work ethic, my sense of fair play and justice, my value system, my ability to make, value and keep friends, my desire to help others, my skills as a practical joker, my love of animals, my ability to listen, my love of children, my love of life, I owe them all to her. In short, everything I have achieved and, really, everything I am, is because of her.
After my father died at the age of 30 and we moved from California to middle Tennessee, she raised me, my sister, Tracy, and my cousin, Alice, on her own. Simply put, she devoted her life to us and to other members of our family, like my grandmother, Mary Alice Ussery, and my great aunt, Sara Dickson. She's the best, most caring person I know.
One of the true joys in my life was telling her, three summers ago, as she sat outside on her longtime neighbors' (Evelyn and Bill Pilkinton) patio, that Jude and I were going to have a baby. I'll remember that moment the rest of my life.
Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you.
My sense of humor, my love of sports, my love of reading, the importance of family in my life, my work ethic, my sense of fair play and justice, my value system, my ability to make, value and keep friends, my desire to help others, my skills as a practical joker, my love of animals, my ability to listen, my love of children, my love of life, I owe them all to her. In short, everything I have achieved and, really, everything I am, is because of her.
After my father died at the age of 30 and we moved from California to middle Tennessee, she raised me, my sister, Tracy, and my cousin, Alice, on her own. Simply put, she devoted her life to us and to other members of our family, like my grandmother, Mary Alice Ussery, and my great aunt, Sara Dickson. She's the best, most caring person I know.
One of the true joys in my life was telling her, three summers ago, as she sat outside on her longtime neighbors' (Evelyn and Bill Pilkinton) patio, that Jude and I were going to have a baby. I'll remember that moment the rest of my life.
Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you.
Snow in Shelby Bottoms
Once, mabye twice a year, I have the opportunity to run at Shelby Park in the snow. Today was one of those days. We had a little snow yesterday, with no real accumulation. This morning, when I arrvied at Shelby Bottoms for my run, there was a half inch of snow on the ground and, better still, snow flurries. The lake near the entrance to the park was frozen, which I don't think I've ever seen before. I guess you'll get that when the temperature drops into single digits two or three nights in a row.
As I locked up my truck and stretched underneath a deserted picnic shelter, the temperature hovered around 18 degrees. I was warm, though, in my trusty Frank Shorter goretex windbreaker and tights, with vaseline on my face to cut the wind (an old runner's trick) and a cap on my head. I think I've had the jacket for 15 years and it's not often that I get to wear it. When I do, though, it never fails to keep me warm, with just a long sleeve worn shirt underneath it.
As I started my run, I noticed it wasn't a complete whiteout, although the trails were covered with snow. The view of the Cumberland River was nice, with snow on both banks. I saw three or four other runners on the bike path, but none on the Cornelia Fort Trail. I enjoyed the solitude and was glad I'd left my ipod at home. I finished my 6-mile run with the snow falling, then it was off to Bongo Java East for a cup of coffee to warm up. What a great way to spend a Saturday morning!
As I locked up my truck and stretched underneath a deserted picnic shelter, the temperature hovered around 18 degrees. I was warm, though, in my trusty Frank Shorter goretex windbreaker and tights, with vaseline on my face to cut the wind (an old runner's trick) and a cap on my head. I think I've had the jacket for 15 years and it's not often that I get to wear it. When I do, though, it never fails to keep me warm, with just a long sleeve worn shirt underneath it.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
'Tisn't the Season
And so it begins again.
Today, for me, is probably the most depressing day of the year. The holidays (Leaf Party, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's Day) are officially over. It's Sunday night and tomorrow morning, it's back to work.
While I love winter time and cold weather, my favorite part of the year is October 1 - January 1. I enjoy college and pro football in the fall, the leaves changing colors, the Leaf Party, the holidays, everything about Christmas (decorations, good cheer, shopping, etc.). Tonight, Jude and I took down our Christmas decorations and while I went to the gym to run, she boxed them up. Depressing, totally depressing. As a final salute to the season, our Christmas lights on the front porch are still lit up and we've yet to undecorate the Christmas tree and take it down. That comes later in the week, though.
Reflecting just a bit, Christmas this year had an added dimension for us, as John Patrick was able to enjoy it so much more than last year. Even now, I smile to myself as I hear his rendition of "ho hoooooo," echoing in my mind, every time he saw the Santa Claus decoration on the wall of our bedroom upstairs. I continue to smile, as I remember him peeking bashfully around the waist high wall at Green Hills Mall to wave at Santa Claus, and Santa Claus waving back. I smile when I remember him being so fascinated with the nativity set my mother got him last year, picking up the tiny baby Jesus out of the manger, carrying him around, kissing him and hugging him, then carefully setting him back in the manger. In my mind's eye, I smile when I recall him standing and gazing up at our Christmas tree, then carefully removing ornaments and studying them while nearby I watched closely, worried he might swallow one of them. I smile when I remember taking him with me to my office, then to the courthouse to deliver my "manly pickles" to the ladies who work in the clerks' offices. I'm still smiling, thought not as much, as I remember him throwing up in my truck on the way home the same day, after which I managed to pull over in a subdivision, change his clothes, and clean him and the car seat up, all in a matter of minutes. I smile, chuckling, as I remember him laughing hysterically while our nanny, Carley, took his picture sitting in the chair Jude's parents gave him for Christmas.
That's the thing about children, I guess. They make things that are already good, like Christmas, so much more special and memorable.
For once, I managed to take some time off work over the holidays, and I'm really glad I did. The way Christmas and New Year's Day fell this year, I actually haven't worked much the past couple of weeks. It's been nice, truthfully. Tomorrow, though, it's back to work and, for me, 2010 begins in earnest. Happy New Year.
Today, for me, is probably the most depressing day of the year. The holidays (Leaf Party, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's Day) are officially over. It's Sunday night and tomorrow morning, it's back to work.
While I love winter time and cold weather, my favorite part of the year is October 1 - January 1. I enjoy college and pro football in the fall, the leaves changing colors, the Leaf Party, the holidays, everything about Christmas (decorations, good cheer, shopping, etc.). Tonight, Jude and I took down our Christmas decorations and while I went to the gym to run, she boxed them up. Depressing, totally depressing. As a final salute to the season, our Christmas lights on the front porch are still lit up and we've yet to undecorate the Christmas tree and take it down. That comes later in the week, though.
Reflecting just a bit, Christmas this year had an added dimension for us, as John Patrick was able to enjoy it so much more than last year. Even now, I smile to myself as I hear his rendition of "ho hoooooo," echoing in my mind, every time he saw the Santa Claus decoration on the wall of our bedroom upstairs. I continue to smile, as I remember him peeking bashfully around the waist high wall at Green Hills Mall to wave at Santa Claus, and Santa Claus waving back. I smile when I remember him being so fascinated with the nativity set my mother got him last year, picking up the tiny baby Jesus out of the manger, carrying him around, kissing him and hugging him, then carefully setting him back in the manger. In my mind's eye, I smile when I recall him standing and gazing up at our Christmas tree, then carefully removing ornaments and studying them while nearby I watched closely, worried he might swallow one of them. I smile when I remember taking him with me to my office, then to the courthouse to deliver my "manly pickles" to the ladies who work in the clerks' offices. I'm still smiling, thought not as much, as I remember him throwing up in my truck on the way home the same day, after which I managed to pull over in a subdivision, change his clothes, and clean him and the car seat up, all in a matter of minutes. I smile, chuckling, as I remember him laughing hysterically while our nanny, Carley, took his picture sitting in the chair Jude's parents gave him for Christmas.
That's the thing about children, I guess. They make things that are already good, like Christmas, so much more special and memorable.
For once, I managed to take some time off work over the holidays, and I'm really glad I did. The way Christmas and New Year's Day fell this year, I actually haven't worked much the past couple of weeks. It's been nice, truthfully. Tomorrow, though, it's back to work and, for me, 2010 begins in earnest. Happy New Year.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Moving Day
John Patrick, moving the chair Jane and Jim White gave him for Christmas. For some reason, he sat in it, picked it up and moved it, sat in it again, picked it up and moved it . . . you get the idea.
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