Radnor Lake

J.P., Jude and I went to Radnor Lake this morning.  Unseasonably warm weather for New Year's Eve, for sure, but we enjoyed getting outside.  Jude and J.P. go to Radnor Lake a lot to walk on the trails, look at the lake and just explore.

It was great, this morning, watching J.P. in his element, throwing rocks in the lake and pretending a stick was his fishing pole.  It wasn't so great when he almost put my eye out "casting" his fishing pole as I stood behind him.  Fortunately, I saw what he was about to do an ducked my head.  Hey, being a parent is dangerous sometimes, you know?

That's J.P.'s "fishing pole" in his left hand.  Dig the binoculars around his neck, a must for an outdoorsman like him.

Yes, this is a photo of a mushroom.  At Radnor Lake.

Reindeer Cupcakes

In keeping with holiday tradition, Jude and J.P. made "Reindeer Cupcakes" for Christmas Day.

Christmas Morning

J.P. with his Home Depot blower.  Notice the goggles on the top of his head.  "Safety first," that's our motto.

J.P., poised for action on our "hockey rink," sporting his new hockey gloves and stick.  Jude and I are raising a big, big hockey fan.

Fang Fingers for Grandma.

J.P., working at his table with what he calls "Playdo Foam."

Twas the Night After Christmas

December 26, the night after Christmas, and I'm sitting in Bongo Java, feeling a little low that after so much anticipation, another Christmas has come and gone.  I'm comforted slightly by the fact that the Christmas decorations are still up, complete with random stockings decorated and hung by each of the employees.  I'm made more cheerful by the fact I'm staring at a one of our Christmas cards above the fireplace at Bongo Java - a 5 x 7 photograph of J.P. in our front yard, grinning, the autumn leaves piled up in the background.  He and I dropped the card off on Christmas Eve.  It's nice to see it again, one more time, before the holiday season ends and we march off into the doldrums of winter.

This was a banner Christmas season in our household, mostly because J.P. is the perfect age for Santa Claus.  His innocence is so beautiful it's almost painful, like gazing into a cloudless sky so blue it hurts your eyes.  He sat in Santa's lap not once but twice, first at the Green Hills Mall, then later at a children's event we attended at the Schermerhorn, home of the Nashville Symphony.  Whenever J.P. was asked what he wanted Santa Claus to bring him for Christmas, the first and second things out of his mouth were a backpack and an ice scraper.  Something tells me he's not going to be so easy to please forever.

Christmas Eve, we went to church with Jude's grandmother and family at St. Henry's.  It's a massive church, so unlike St. Patrick, where we attend.  The 6 p.m. service was packed.  As was the case last year, Father Mike made quite an impression on J.P.  Jude and I laughed from our aisle seat as J.P. waved at Father Mike walking past us as the service began.  Later, when we were kneeling, Jude elbowed me and pointed down, where J.P. was on his knees with his hands clasped in prayer.  Jude and I silently exchanged a proud look, sharing the moment.

After dinner at Jude's grandmother's house, we drove home and J.P. chattered away in the back seat.  He didn't get to bed until after 10 p.m., probably the latest he has ever been awake.  Before he went to bed, of course, he and Jude set out some "reindeer cupcakes" for Santa Claus and some pasta for the reindeer.    Then, the fun began as Santa went to work assembling a two-sided easel for J.P.  I was dismayed when I opened the box and emptied out several packages of screws and loose pieces of wood.  Fortunately, Jude came to the rescue and with my not so able assistance, we had the easel up and ready to go in 45 minutes or so.  I didn't get to bed until after 2 a.m.

Christmas morning, slightly past 6 a.m., J.P. woke up and climbed into bed with us, so excited he could barely contain himself.  I went downstairs first, got the video camera ready, then Jude and J.P. followed me into the living room.  He was amazed and literally beamed with happiness, as he examined everything Santa Claus had left for him in front of our fireplace.  Curiously, he did ask me (again, just like last year), to close the fireplace screen, presumably in case Santa decided to return to our house.  That made Jude and me laugh.

Jude's parents and her brother, James, and sister-in-law, Megan, had brunch at our house later Christmas morning.  We exchanged gifts and, as always, Jane and Jimdad were generous to us.  Between my mother and Jude's parents, J.P. is blessed to have such loving grandparents.  Later that afternoon, I went for a quick Christmas Day run, while Jude, and J.P. napped.  Next, it was off to my mother's house to eat again and celebrate Christmas with my family.

J.P. was especially pleased with his easel and his authentic hockey gloves and stick (he's a huge Pekke Rinne fan).  The hit of the holiday, though, was the "Cars" walkie talkie set James and Megan gave him.  He didn't want to put it down.  In fact, we  had to pry it out of his hands when we left for my mother's house Saturday afternoon.  When we arrived back home, J.P. went upstairs, where he kept up a running conversation with Jude - via walkie talkie (or "talkie talkie," as he said) - on the progress of the grilled cheese sandwich she was cooking for his dinner.

This morning, he climbed into our bed - with the walkie talkies - about 6:30 a.m. and, despite my best efforts to pretend like I was asleep, insisted that I take one of the walkie talkies and go downstairs to get his morning milk, talking to him the entire time.  I was dead tired, but I was also blissfully happy as I trudged down, then back up the stairs.

It's a bit strange and a bit sad, somehow, to think that this will be the last Christmas Jude, J.P. and I will share alone.  Next year, three will be four, and I can't help but wonder how J.P. will adjust to not being the sole focus of our attention, as well as our family's.  I think (and hope) it will be good for him.  I can't help but feel that way, as I think about him snuggled next to Jude in her chair in our den this evening, talking directly to her stomach and telling his brother he can't wait to meet him.

It's all good.  

The Salad Days

My morning, so far.

0640 - Wake up to the sound of a bump (JP getting out of bed) and little feet running across the hardwood floor.  JP climbs into our bed, crawls across Jude, puts his face right in my ear and says, "Daddy, can I have some milk?"

0650 - I get up, limp downstairs (running injury to my calf) and pour JP some milk.  Check my cell phone and confirm that a mediation I had set for today settled at 11 p.m last night when the other attorney and her client accepted our final offer.  Sweet!  My day just got a lot easier.

0700 - Take JP his milk, hit the shower.  Get out of the shower and start frying some bacon for his breakfast.  Get dressed.

0730 - JP comes down to pretend "Bongo Java" (a.k.a. the kitchen) to eat breakfast.  He pretends to be Johnny Bag of Doughnuts and I pretend to be Chad from Bongo Java (one of our favorite baristas at Bongo Java).  I put on the Avett Brothers "Gleam" on the iPod.  I take the old Kappa Sigma paddle from college down off the wall and pretend to play guitar.  JP laughs.  Jude walks in, looks at us, then shakes her head.

0800 - Time to brush teeth, we tell JP.  He and I negotiate and ultimately settle on me getting first turn with the toothbrush, while he gets second and third turn.  He asks me to leave the bathroom so he can go potty.  JP needs his privacy.  He's 3 1/2.

0815 - Time for JP and me to leave for school.  Jude dresses JP in his heavy coat.  I point out that it's going to be 60 degrees today.  Jude responds that it's 40 degrees right now.  I check my cell phone and tell her that it's actually 46 degrees now and will be 50 degrees by 9 a.m.  Jude ignores me.  Win some, lose some.

0820 - JP and I walk outside.  I went to sleep last night and it was December and now it's April.  Beautiful, beautiful day.  Bright blue sky, brilliant sunshine and almost 50 degrees.  Wow.  It feels good to be alive, as JP I walk hand in hand to my truck.

0830 - I get to the front of the drop-off line at Children's House and JP hops out of my truck with his school bag.  I shake my head in wonderment and remind myself how lucky we are that he has adjusted so well to school.

0835 - As I walk up on to the front deck at Bongo Java, I see Ms. Joyce and several other regulars sitting outside (in December!), enjoying the weather and their morning coffee.  We chat for a minute or two.

0840 - I walk inside Bongo Java for a "mood elevator" (iced coffee drink) and toast.  Because I'm a regular and Bongo Java is the center of my universe, Chenel doesn't charge me for my coffee.  We chat about her impending move to Paris.  She's another Bongo Java friend JP and I are really going to miss, but we're happy for her, because she's so happy.

0845 - As I'm about to sit down, Chad, the owner of Chago's Cantina (a Mexican restaurant a few doors down from Bongo Java) taps me on the shoulder, says hi, and invites JP, Jude and me to the restaurant Christmas party on Sunday.  It's JP's favorite restaurant and he loves Chad, so I smile, thinking how excited he'll be when I tell him about the party.

0850 - I sit down at a table by a window in the front of Bongo Java with a nice view of the front deck.  I relax, listening to some 1950's music on the sound system and watching people go in and out of the front door, bustling off to wherever they're going and whatever they're doing on an unseasonably warm day in mid-December in Nashville.  I listen to the routine, mundane by comforting sounds of a coffee shop - coffee being made, music playing, people talking quietly.  I look around and see people reading, taking notes, writing in notebooks.  I see Rick (another regular) reading the NY Times, likes he does every morning.  I'm overwhelmed by a feeling of contentment.

0925 - I finish my "mood elevator" and wish I could stop time.

From One Mayor to Another Mayor

J.P. (future mayor of Nashville) shaking hands with our current mayor, Karl Dean, at the beginning of the Christmas Parade last Friday evening.

Christmas Parade

For several years, I've said half-jokingly that I'm "the first man."  Some might call me "Mr. White."  In fact, I have been called "Mr. White."  More than once and deservedly so, given that my wife is rather accomplished and well thought of in certain circles.  Top 40 Under 40, Athena Award nominee (and she should have won, too), Nashville Bar Association board member, etc.

Most recently, Jude accepted a position as Director of the Governor's Cabinet for Children, in which she will be working closely with the first lady, Chrissie Haslam.  That's in addition to her job with Mayor Dean's office.  Okay, so you can see where this is going.  My wife's an accomplished lady.  Not only is she the smartest person I know, she's the best person I know.

Last Friday evening, through her job Mayor Dean's office, Jude, J.P. and I got ride in the Nashville Christmas Parade with a couple of her friends and their families.  Any by ride in the parade, I mean we rode in the front of the parade in a vintage 1950's fire engine, open air, waving to people in downtown Nashville all along the parade route.  It was crazy!  Mayor Dean and the Commissioner of the Fire Department walked along behind us.

At one point, I leaned over to Jude and told her I understood how Miss Tennessee feels (waving to all of my adoring fans).  I'm not sure that analogy works, but still.

The best part is J.P. has an absolute blast.  We brought his noise reducing headphones (endorse by Drew Brees, no less), which was key as the fire engine behind us blasted its sirens for most of the ride.  He was oblivious to the noise, happily staring over the edge of the fire engine and waving to the throngs of people stacked 4 and 5 deep along the parade route, a smile on his face.

It was a top 10 event, for sure, and an evening I'll always remember.

 

Swinging

J.P., pushing the old man on a swing at Berry Hill Park a couple of weekends ago.  Nice legs.

Groundhog Day

I'm sitting in the "crow's nest" at Bongo Java, upstairs, sipping a "mood elevator" and just trying to catch my breath.  It's 9:30 p.m. and J.P. is in bed.  Jude is down for the night and I'm almost down for the count.

We spent the morning at Baptist Hospital - again - before getting released to come home early this afternoon.  Although the nurses there are great, we are so happy not to have to stay overnight again.

A quick recap - this morning, as I waited in the drop-off line at Children's House, my cellphone rang and I saw it was Jude calling.  Ignoring my entreaties to stay home from work today, she planned to go to work, so I was surprised to hear from her so early.  I thought maybe I had left something at the house.  When I answered, she asked me where I was, then said "I think you need to come home."  My heart sank.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I feel dizzy and I think I might pass out," she replied.

"Are you having contractions?"  I asked.  "Yes," she said.  Shit, I thought.  Shit.  "I'll be there in a minute."

I raced home and opened the front door to find Jude in my chair, reclined, feet up, white as a sheet.  She had put a bag together in case we had to stay overnight at the hospital again and was waiting on a return call from the doctor's office.  About 9 a.m., we got tired of waiting and decided to go on to the hospital.  I packed a bag of my own, helped her down the sidewalk and into my truck.

As I started the engine and pulled away from the curb, I looked at her and said, "how fast do we need to get there?"  "Fast," she answered.  "I can handle that," I said, as I mashed the accelerator and sped up Acklen Avenue.  I weaved in and out of traffic (sorry Mom) and easily busted the speed limit (sorry Mom) as I drove down Blakemore, then cut over to West End and, finally, Church Street.  We parked in a handicapped spot in the parking garage, right by the door to triage, and walked inside.  Within minutes, we were in a triage room and being attended to by a wonderful nurse, Jennifer.

Although Jude was having contractions again, the results of a couple of tests (the details of which I will spare you) revealed it was highly unlikely she was in labor.  We also got a good, solid heartbeat on our baby immediately, which was reassuring in and of itself.  The on call doctor (Dr. Forbes) was nice enough to walk over to triage and spend some time with us.  She reviewed with us the results (which were good) of the ultrasound that was done Wednesday afternoon.  Jude was given IV fluids again, but just for a little while, and we were out of the hospital by 12:30 p.m.

It was a long day at the end of a long, stressful week.  If I had a dollar for every silent prayer I said today along, asking for Jude and our baby to be healthy and for her to carry him to term without complications, I would be a rich man.  Then again, I am a rich man.  My pregnant wife and our son, J.P., are safe at home asleep.  And we're going to have another son in a couple of months.  I'm a very rich man.

Crash

Where to begin?

Yesterday, as I was leaving work, I got the telephone call from Jude I never wanted to get.  The kind of telephone call no man wants to get when his wife is almost seven months pregnant.

"I've been in an accident," she said.  "What!?!" I replied.  "Someone rear-ended me at the intersection of Eighth Avenue and Division Street," she said.  Jude's voice was eerily calm as a thousand terrifying images flashed through my mind.  "I'm okay and the police are on the way," she continued.

Jude being Jude, she refused to ask for an ambulance to be sent to the accident scene.  I decided it wasn't worth arguing about - mostly because I knew I couldn't change her mind - and told her stay in her vehicle and that I'd be there as quickly as I could.  I cringed as I turned on to I-65 north, toward Nashville, when I saw how much traffic was on the interstate.

I called my friend, Hal Humphreys, who lives in our neighborhood.  When I told him what had happened, he said, simply, "I'm on it."  He hung up the telephone and drove straight to the accident scene which, thankfully, is only a couple of miles from our house.  Knowing Hal would arrive before me to comfort Jude, to make sure she and our baby were all right, to insist on calling an ambulance if he thought one was needed - all of that meant the world to me.  There are friends (and family) you can count on in life when disaster strikes and there are those you simply can't count on in those types of situations.  Hal would travel to the ends of the earth, no questions asked, for me or for Jude.  That's friendship.

When I finally arrived at the accident scene, I noticed the vehicles has been moved on to Division Street, out of traffic.  I got out walked up to Jude's Honda Pilot, relieved to see there was little damage to the rear.  Hal was standing next to the driver's side door and Jude was still sitting inside.  Had her vehicle been damaged or had she been visibly injured, I might have "gone Nascar" on the college student driving the Subaru Outback that had rear-ended her and started punching him through his open window. Fortunately, he was apologetic and cooperative, which may have saved him from bodily injury.  Seriously.

After the police officer finished his report, Jude drove to the hospital and I met her there.  When the triage nurse realized she was having mild, but consistent contractions, she admitted Jude to the hospital for a 24-hour stay.  Jude was dehydrated, as well, so the nurse put her on an IV to help rehydrate her.  We anxiously watched the computer screen set up to monitor our baby's heartbeat with the fetal heart monitor attached to Jude's stomach.  We also watched with some trepidation as the graph on the computer screen showed spikes that indicated Jude was having contractions.

After I went back to the house to pick up some things for Jude, we hunkered down in our room at Baptist Hospital to stay for the night.  Our nanny and friend, Carley Meade, and her husband, Jon, stayed at our house with J.P.  Like Hal, Carley and Jon are friends we can count on, no doubt.  It was a long night, as you might imagine, and neither of us got much sleep.  Jude's nurse came into our room regularly throughout the night and, frankly, hospitals just aren't very quiet.

By this morning, the contractions had stopped or were few and far between, thank God (and I did a lot of thanking God, during the night).  Our doctor and friend, Roseann Maikis, told me she wanted Jude to stay in the hospital for 24 hours, which meant she could leave at 7 p.m. tonight.  As I write this, Jude is upstairs, asleep (probably) and glad to be home.  She's not as glad to be home as J.P. and I are to have her home.

My wife is a walking contradiction.  She's the strongest person I know, the only person I know, in fact, that I would put in my mother's class in terms of inner strength.  And that's saying something.  And, yet, she's so tender, so gentle and motherly with J.P. - it's amazing to see it.  She's a force of nature.  I love her and I don't know what I would do without her.  

The magic Christmas ornament box.

Just because I love J.P.'s "funny face."

Christmas Time

Last weekend, the Friday after Thanksgiving, Jude, J.P. and I got our Christmas tree.  At halftime of the Tennessee-Kentucky game (UT's first loss to UK in 26 years, but that's another sad, sad story), Jude's dad, Jim, and I brought the Christmas tree in and put it in the stand.  That in itself was a much more enjoyable experience than normal, since Jude and I usually struggle to put the tree up, especially with J.P. underfoot.

J.P. was dead set on decorating the Christmas tree Saturday, so much so that he was really, really pissed when we told him we'd do to it Sunday.  Needless to say, he was ecstatic when I brought the box of Christmas ornaments up from the basement Sunday afternoon, after church.  I had forgotten how much he enjoyed getting the ornaments out of the box and handing them to us last year.  This time around, he was bouncing up and down and waving his hands as we opened up the box of ornaments.  He couldn't wait to fine his favorite ornament - a "Smokey" figurine (UT's mascot).  

One by one, he took the ornaments out of the box and hung them carefully on the Christmas, mostly in the same spot on a low hanging branch.  Within a few minutes, the branch in question was almost touching the ground, loaded down with all of his favorite ornaments (including Smokey).  When we finished decorating the tree, J.P. laid down on the floor, on his stomach, and just stared at the Smokey ornament.  Jude and I looked at each other and laughed.

Later, after his nap, we unpacked our other boxes of Christmas decorations.  Again, J.P. really got a kick out of lifting each decoration out of the box, smiling in wonderment each time.  It really made me appreciate Christmas even more to see him so excited to decorate the tree and the house.

Why?

My cousin, Rick Newman, died yesterday in Hawaii.  He was 29 and had his whole life ahead of  him.  He was a good looking kid (not a man, to me, but a kid), smart, charismatic with an infectious smile and a great sense of humor.  

Although an autopsy has been performed, the toxicology report won't be back for a few weeks.  His parents suspect alcohol was involved, as Rick has been battling an addiction to alcohol for at least a couple of years.  That was his dark side, a side I never saw, because I didn't have the opportunity to spend much time with him, in person, over the years since he and his family lived in Phoenix and, more recently, Hawaii.  I regret that, now, and I wonder if I could have made a difference in his life if I had established a closer relationship with him.

I've always had a great affinity for Rick and his younger brother, Rob, because of my relationship with their father, Dave Newman.  Dave is my father's younger brother (my uncle) and I've always felt closer to my father through my relationship with Dave.  My heart goes out to Dave, Renee (his wife) and Rob and I wish there was something I could say or do to ease their pain.

My mom, my sister and I traveled to Akron, Ohio, in June 2009 to attend Rick's wedding.  We almost didn't make the trip, but ultimately decided to drive over and we were so glad we did.  It ended up being one of those perfect weekends - the kind you can't plan - they just happen organically.  It was so great to see several members of my dad's side of the family - people we rarely get to see.  For me, as is and was always the case, it was like I had never away from Dave and his sons, Rick and Rob.  We just picked up where we left off the last time I had seen them, giving each other grief, laughing and having fun.

Rick was in phenomenal shape and my enduring memory - one I'll cherish for the rest of my life - was going for a long run with Rick and a friend on a trail along the Cuyahoga River on the morning of the wedding.  Rick fully intended to run me into the ground, but I turned the tables on him and he had to stop and walk by the end of the run.  He was surprised that his "old" cousin, over the age of 40, could outrun him, even though I had warned him to watch out for the "old" guys.  I kidded him about it the rest of the weekend, but I treasured the time we spend together on that long run, just running, talking and running.  It was already a top 20, all time, run for me, and now it's a run I'll remember and treasure forever.

Alcoholism is such an insidious disease.  It's reach, unfortunately, is limitless.  Rich, poor, young, old, it doesn't matter.  And now it's taken Rick, far too soon.

I'm rambling, I know.  It's hard to understand why something like this happens.  The real pain, I think, is in wondering what you could have done differently or what could have happened that might have resulted in a different outcome.  The reality, though, harsh as it is, is that Dave and Renee (and Rob) did everything they could have possibly done for Rick.  He had their support and their love but, in the end, he wasn't able to help himself.  I can't explain it and I can't rationalize what happened.  I sure as hell can't understand why Rick died.  Something like this tests one's faith, no doubt, but all I an do is pray for Rick and pray for Dave, Renee and Rob.

Rick was a good kid - a wonderful kid - who did a lot of living in 29 years.  I only wish he had more time.

Dave, Rick and Rob Newman at Rick's wedding in Akron, Ohio, in June 2009.

  

Plagued

It's late and I'm sitting in my camping chair, on our front porch, underneath the icicle lights we hung today to mark the official beginning of Christmas Season at our house.  It's unseasonably warm, as is has been as of late, but the wind is gusting ahead of rain and colder temperatures set to arrive tomorrow.

This morning, we took J.P. to the doctor.  He's been battling a cough for at least a week.  It's worse at night  and it breaks my heart when he wakes up coughing and crying.  It makes me feel like I'm failing him somehow, because I can't make him feel better.  This morning, early, he looked up at me, crying, and said, "Daddy, why can't stop coughing."  I could hear my heart breaking.  Audibly.

Jude's sick with a cold, too, which doesn't help matters.  I feel terrible for her, too, because she can't really take any medicine (not that she would anyway) since she's pregnant.  I can't imagine anything more uncomfortable than being six months pregnant and having a sore throat and runny nose.  Still, she fights through it because that's just her nature.  Impervious to that which would cause the rest of us to complain.

Our doctor prescribed some cough medicine for J.P., but when we read the fine print on the prescription (warnings, possible side effects, etc.) we got scared and gave him a teaspoon of the over-the-counter cough medicine we've tried before.  I hope he sleeps a little better tonight.

Ever since he started school this fall, it seems like he's had one cold after another.  From what I read, that's normal, as he's exposed to other children (and their germs) on a daily basis.  When he was with our nanny, Carley, every day, he wasn't around other children regularly and, consequently, he never got sick.  Hopefully, he'll build up his immunities and when he starts kindergarten in two or three years, he won't have to deal with this anymore.  That's what I keep telling myself, anyway.

That kind of brings me around to the point of this post.  Three years ago today, my longtime friend, Benton, lost his daughter, Elizabeth, to an insidious disease after a relatively brief two week illness.  Elizabeth was a  senior in high school with her life ahead of her.  She was athletic, smart, funny and extremely popular, just like her father and mother.  She also was an only child.  She was her mother's best friend.  Her death wrecked Benton and Carrie.  They've persevered but I know they're struggling this weekend.

They're in my thoughts and prayers often, but especially this weekend.  Thanksgiving weekend.  My son is sick with a cold and I'm sick with worry.  In the scheme of things, as I think about Benton and Carrie and what they have been through and are going through, my worries seem rather insignificant.

Rest in Peace, Elizabeth, and know you are loved and remembered today and always.

Jude's cousin, Rebecca White, and J.P. at Thanksgiving.

Maddie and Colton (a.k.a. "Cletus") White.

"VU Jane" and "Uncle Johnny"

Two Peas in a Pod

Jude and her cousin, Colleen Blanchard, at the White Family Thanksgiving Dinner (Actually, there are two  peas in Colleen's pod - twins.  One pea in Jude's pod).

Bird Feeders

Jude and J.P. filling up the bird feeders for the first time this year.

Chasing the Leaves

Tuesday morning, before work, I was cooking bacon for JP's breakfast when I looked out into the backyard and saw leaves falling like snow.  I was excited, because one of my favorite pasttimes in the fall in trying to catch falling leaves.  It's tough, obviously, because like snowflakes, all leaves are slightly different and, as a result, they fall differently from the trees.  Some fall straight down, but most are caught by the wind and change directions several times before landing on the ground.

As Carley arrived at the house (JP's school was closed for parent-teacher conferences), J.P. and I were in the front yard, staring up into the branches of our stately old maple tree.  Every minute or so, a breeze would ruffle the branches and leaves would begin to fall.  J.P. would squeal with delight, then take off running to catch a falling leaf.  He was having so much fun, I couldn't help but smile as I watched him.

Jude came outside and walked to her car, prepared to head to work.  When she saw how much fun we were having, she set her work stuff down in her car and joined us in the yard to chase leaves.  I went inside and grabbed the video camera so I could capture the moment for posterity.  It was awesome, just watching Jude, J.P. and Carley chasing the falling leaves, laughing the whole time.  Even after Jude left for work, I just sat on the front porch for a few minutes and watched J.P. and Carley.  It was a morning I didn't want to ever end.

Pumpkin Puke

I've always wanted to carve a pumpkin like this.  For Halloween this year, I did.  Oh, and J.P. really liked it, by the way.

Blessed

Blessed.  That's what I am.

Jude and I had another ultrasound this morning - 23 weeks - and everything looks great.  Our soon to be born son measured about 25 weeks and is in the 96th percentile in size, which is really, really good news.  That's almost exactly where J.P. was at this stage of the game.

During the ultrasound, he was active, rolling around, grabbing his toes and opening and closing his mouth. It's truly amazing to be able to see him in such detail and to realize that right there, Jude is carrying our new son in her womb.  Watching the ultrasound, our eyes riveted on the screen, it's an intensely emotional and personal experience for both of us.  We sit there, in silence, waiting for any sign or word from the ultrasound technician that what she is seeing is what she is supposed to be seeing.  If she's not talking much - liked she wasn't at first today - our minds begin to race, infused with doubt.  Then, when she tells us everything looks great - like she did today - our hearts soar with relief.

While the journey is somehow different this time around, the emotions are largely the same at certain points, like today.  When I see our son on the screen - his arms, legs, hands and feet - I'm again struck by the miracle of life.  We're not there yet and we have some distance left to travel on this journey, but I think I can almost see, ahead in the distance, our destination.  We're going to get there, one day at a time.  

Trails

This morning, I returned to Percy Warner Park for another run on one of the horse trails there.  It was an exquisite fall morning, rolling fog and temperatures in the low to mid-40's.  There was a flurry of activity at the entrance to the park on Belle Meade Boulevard, a melange of walkers, runners and bikers.  

I've enjoyed running on the horse trails the last two weekends, in part because I haven't run them before and it's a little bit of an adventure to run where I haven't run before.  There's the fear of getting lost, which in my case, is a legitimate fear (I've gotten lost in Percy Warner Park before, although that was almost 20 years ago).  Plus, the trails are fairly hilly and technically difficult, given that the carpet of falling leaves covers roots and loose rocks.

I only saw one other runner on the horse trail this morning, so I was able to enjoy my run in solitude, alone with my iPod and the random songs from my music library playing on it.  The scenery along the horse trail on which I was running was almost breathtakingly beautiful, bright sunshine burning off the fog and illuminating the gold leaves on the path that had changed color and fallen from the trees.  

A couple of miles into the run, I sensed movement to my right, just off the trail.  I looked over and was almost face to face with an 8-point buck.  He just stood there, placidly, and stared at me, maybe 10 feet away.  I chuckled to myself, said hello and kept running.  I turned around at the 3-mile mark and on the run back to the trail head, I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye, moving overhead.  I looked up in time to see a large owl swoop majestically in the sky above me, then land in a tree nearby.  I stopped and looked up at the owl (I really, really like owls) and he looked right back at me until I continued on my way.  Near the end of my run, I saw a doe just off the trail.  Again, she didn't run away from me.  She just stood and stared at me as I ran by her.

I finished my run by galloping down the ancient, steep, stone stairs to the entrance to the park, John Prine's "Lake Marie" playing on my iPod.  A good way to end a top 20 run, the kind of run I search for all year long when I lace up my running shoes and head out the door.  I'm lucky to find 5 of those types of runs a year and I'm blessed to have found one this morning.

Musicology

On the way home from a late night trip to Kroger this evening, I listened to the Avett Brothers' "Left on Laura, Left on Lisa."  It's a fantastic song and, tonight especially, I couldn't help but smile as I listened to it.      I was struck, really struck by that song the very first time I heard it.  I immediately knew the Avett Brothers would be a band I would love.  And I do.

More importantly, J.P. quickly fell in love with the Avett Brothers, too.  First, it was "Left on Laura, Left on Lisa," which he calls "the sad song."  Later, it was "I and Love and You" and "Die Die Die."  At any given time, actually, he's really into a different Avett Brothers' song, which he asks me to play over and over again as we drive to school in the mornings.

That song, in particular, makes me smile, because I can vividly recall driving around the neighborhood when he first heard it, just listening to it, together.  He didn't want me to take us home.  He just wanted to drive around and listen to "Left on Laura, Left on Lisa."  The cool thing is he loved the song independently of anything I told him.  He heard it, liked it and asked me to play it . . . again and again and again.  The fact that we both loved the same song makes me feel there is something in our "musical DNA" that makes us enjoy the same type of music.  I'll have to see if that holds true when he's a teenager.

Margaret White, Rita White, J.P. and Jude at Tom White's farm.

J.P. and his cousin, Maddie White, at Tom White's farm Saturday night.

Hayride!

Yesterday, J.P., Jude and I went to Tom White's farm in Dickson for their annual Halloween Party/Chili Cook-off.  A few years ago, Tom (Jude's uncle) bought a cabin on 12 acres or so, just on the Dickson County side of the county line.  Over time, he bought a couple of parcels of land from neighbors, as well as a barn he's totally renovated.  Now, he owns about 80 acres (I think) that's adjacent to a creek.  It's really a nice spread and we love going out there.

The highlight of the afternoon, for J.P., turned out to be the hayride.  In the past, he's had what seems to be an irrational fear of hayrides, which is strange, because he loves tractors.  Last year, at the same party, he flat refused to go on the hayride.  A few weeks ago, at Genry Farm in Franklin, he wouldn't get on the hayride.  Then, at "Ghouls at Grassmere" (Halloween at the Nashville Zoo), he again refused to go on the hayride.

When Tom's friend, Bud, drove the tractor down to the barn for the first hayride, J.P. climbed aboard the trailer full of hay bales with Jude and her grandmother, although he wasn't very happy about it.  I climbed up and sat next to J.P. and Jude's dad sat down next to me.  As the tractor started forward with a lurch, J.P. whimpered a little bit and held onto to Jude a little tighter.  Pretty quickly, though, as we rode slowly around the farm, he perked up and started smiling, laughing and pointing at different things he saw.  Later, he said, "I told you it would be fun, Mommy."  Right.

J.P. adores Bud, having met him at the party last year.  As the hayride ended, J.P. asked Bud if he would  sit with us when we ate chili, like he had last year.  Much to his delight, Bud sat down and ate with us after he finished a couple more tours around the farm on the tractor.

Later, after we got home and J.P. was getting ready for bed, he couldn't stop talking about how much fun he had on the hayride.  Pretty cool.

Fair Weather in My Hemisphere

It's late October, about 10:30 p.m., and I'm sitting in my chair on the front porch after a run, listening the to the crickets - they're particularly vocal tonight - and watching the leaves fall to the ground under the streetlight as a light but insistent breeze blows.  As the breeze picks up steam, it rustles the leaves in the stately old maple tree in our front yard and the branches sway just a bit.  It's a great time of night and a real treat to be sitting outside with the temperature hovering in the low 60s, glass of wine by my side.

I've been fighting a cold and cough since late last week, so I took Monday and Tuesday off from running.  It was killing me and it's supposed to turn cold and rainy tomorrow.  I couldn't help myself, so I ventured out for a quick 3-mile night run through the neighborhood.  It was good to knock the rust off my legs, so to speak, and get a run in, although my cough has picked up again since I got back.  Sitting here on my front porch and listening to the sounds of the city, relatively late in the evening, is probably the time of day when I love my house and where I live the most.

J.P. accompanied Jude and me this afternoon to see Roseann Maikis, our friend and Jude's Ob/Gyn.  Although he was a little skittish at first, J.P. quickly warmed up in the waiting room when he saw there was a play area.  Our nurse, Gina, found our new son's heartbeat easily and it sounded strong and fast.  J.P. wasn't so wild about the noise (he's never wild about noises), so for the most part, he kept his hands over his ears while we listened to the heartbeat.  When Roseann came in to examine Jude and talk with us, J.P. was great.  He showed Roseann his doctor's bag (he's brought it to her office) and pulled out the plastic stethoscope so she could see it.  Roseann was fantastic with him.

Jude's gained almost 10 pounds, which is right where Roseann wants her to be, 22+ weeks into the pregnancy.  Roseann was pleased with the results of the 20-week ultrasound and told us the baby is growing like he should be.  Good news all the way around.

In a couple of weeks, Jude will go in for a test to see if she has gestational diabetes.  Last time around, she did, so it's more likely she will have it again this time.  If she does, it will mean pricking her finger a few times a day and watching her diet very closely.  She's already been staying away from sweets and juices, for the most part, so we're hopeful that she may not have gestational diabetes.

All in all, we're good to go.  Not ready to launch, yet, but getting there.  Like so much in life, we're taking it one day at a time and trying to live in the moment.  And as moments go, it's a pretty good one to live in for a while.

The Fab Four

Wolf, J.P., Scout and Finn - the Fab Four

Bath Time for J.P. and Finn

This is maybe one of the greatest photos I've ever taken and, for sure, one that's going to be shown in public twice - once at J.P.'s wedding and once at Finn's wedding.  Once if they marry each other.

The Ladies

Jude, Uncle Carley and Jonny Love

Great and Margaret

Family

Leaf Party Kids