Your mother and I got out of town last weekend. We chose Berkeley Springs, WV, for a quiet retreat, thinking that a spa weekend would be a nice way to relax and enjoy ourselves before all hell breaks loose you arrive. Back in the 1700’s, this dude named George Washington—you’ll hear all about him in school—stopped by to take a bath, and he was so smitten with the area that he incorporated the town and bought land there.
We picked a quaint little inn online and booked a room, then made spa reservations for Saturday afternoon. We found out that many of the more exotic-sounding spa services aren’t offered to pregnant women, as the mere touch of a hot stone or drop of scented oil will send the expectant mother into immediate labor, so we opted for a massage, facial, and pedicure. I’ve never been to a spa before, or had anyone other than a doctor look at my toenails with more than a cursory glance, so I was a bit nervous about the idea of a professional massage. Well, that, and nuding up in front of someone other than your mother. Unfortunately, they separated the two of us upon entry, and I was handed a locker key and a robe to change into. Alone in the dressing room, I closed my eyes, let the new-agey Muzak put me into a state of peace, dropped my boxers, and put the robe on. Then I slipped into a pair of flip-flops, and headed out into the unknown. I don’t often wear robes in public, so it took a little adjusting and an eyeful of someone else’s privates to realize the robes needed constant attention. I wound up walking around with my hands jammed in the pockets so that I would keep the two folds covering my junk.
I was scheduled for a hot-rock massage first, and the masseuse let me get situated on the table while she waited outside (whew) Nervous, I made conversation as she prepared the rocks and got herself organized. It turned out she grew up in the town next to the one I graduated high school in, so we spent the majority of my massage gabbing away about travel, family, and Southern food. I’d have to rate my first professional massage as comfortable, friendly, and informative, but not as relaxing as it probably should have been.
Next came a facial, which at the outset made me feel like a foolish pantywaist, but turned out to be a very pleasant experience. My masseuse was a younger woman who bundled my face up in a towel, pointed a steam generator at my face, and slapped about fifty coats of lotion on my skin. She also massaged my feet and hands, and then put them in these weird heated bag things which (I guess) ensured I was marinading properly. I hope your bottom is as smooth as my cheeks were on Saturday afternoon, little one. I hope it smells as good too.
Finally, we had a pedicure, and this your mother and I got to enjoy together. I had worried about my feet being nasty all day, but the woman hovering over my toes told me, with wonder and awe in her voice, that I have beautiful feet. Given the fact that I wear glasses, my hair is receding, my nose is bent, and I do not have the rippling muscles of an olympic swimmer, having this one redeeming physical quality is comforting. Even if it is my feet. Hopefully this trait will be passed along to you, little one. After she was done with my nails and a refreshing pumice scrub, I opted for a simple clear polish, figuring it would go with sandals and evening wear equally well.
Later, after relaxing in our room, we wrapped up our evening with dinner at a restaurant downtown, enjoying the cool air, relaxed atmosphere, and our buttery smooth skin.
You will be happy to know your crib is now assembled, and we have organized your room as much as possible. We still face a game of musical chairs with all the furniture in the house before we can really set your room up correctly. I have to finish the front porch first, and then we can move our office downstairs. Then the big futon in your room will move into that room, and we can push your crib to the far wall and have room for the dresser we still haven’t found. See? Isn’t that simple? It’s really kind of fitting, when I think about it, because we didn’t get to sleep in our own bedroom until a year after we moved into this house, and neither will you. Welcome to the family!
“…we have organized your room as much as possible…”
Translation: Not organized at all, in any way shape or form.
Unless you count stuff placed in multiple bags which are then strewn around the floor and boxes stacked inside the crib so that no baby would be able to lay down in it. But yes, the crib is put together and placed in the room where it will eventually go. Everything else (baby clothes, booty care, legal transportation) is doing its own thing elsewhere in the house.
Pantywaist. There’s that lovely word again. I would have thought its proper spelling was “pantywaste.” Huh. I’m learning so many new things from you! That kid is going to have a great vocabulary.
For the last year or so we’ve been working on finding a good school to get Finn into so that she’s got the best possible chances in 9 through 12th grade. We looked at a couple of very pricy private schools, one of which seemed to be a factory for Stepford Aryan lacrosse players. She also tested for the local magnet school, which has a very good reputation in this area. We’d done a tour last fall and came away extremely impressed by all the programs we saw. Their graphic arts program was staffed and set up better than the facilities I taught at over at UMBC. Their Environmental Science programs all looked fascinating, all the technology programs were sharp, and even the cosmetology program was legit. Jen arranged for Finn to take the various tests and we waited nervously for the results. She didn’t wind up being accepted to the other expensive private school we looked at, but we found out this week she was accepted into the magnet for Environmental Science and she’s low on the wait list for the Graphic Arts program. I can’t express what a huge relief that was for our whole family.
Our local high school isn’t terrible—it’s rated #5,920 out of all of the high schools in the country, #104 in Maryland, with a 92% graduation rate. But in contrast, Western Tech is rated #366 in the country, and the #6 school in Maryland according to the US News & World Report ratings. And according to the Baltimore County report card, it has a 98.6% graduation rate. It’s set up to be a lot more rigorous, with a lower teacher-to-student ratio than the others, and the facilities and curriculum all look solid.
I’m so proud of her for working hard to get in. She deserves a program that will challenge her; I hope she digs in and makes the most of it.
I haven’t taken many pictures in the last year—something I’ve been thinking about is looking over the number of files in my Lightroom library to see what the falloff has been—but we had to take a picture of Finn for a church thing yesterday and I thought I’d post it here too.
Wow, look at that. Fifteen years ago this week I started demoing the old exam room in preparation for a renovation; I think it was this same day Jen came in and told me she’d just gotten a positive result on a pregnancy test.
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I’ve been using a cast-off MacBook Pro from work for email since before the pandemic; I have one good machine cobbled together from multiple out-of-service 2013 Retina models—this one has a drive from one machine, a replacement battery from another, and a screen from a third. It’s serviceable for what I’m doing on it, mainly email, photo selection/cataloguing, and other basics. But I’m stuck at OS 10.14 on this machine and I’d really like to upgrade to the latest version for security and modern features. It can’t talk to my iPad, which kind of sucks. It suffers from random 1-5 second freezes. There are some applications I can’t run anymore.
I think it’s time to upgrade my personal system here, given that the last truly new MacBook I bought was back in 2011, funded partially by the sale of my previous laptop. I’m looking at something ligher and slimmer (and cheaper) than a true MacBook Pro, which points at a MacBook Air: They’ve just updated the model to the new M2 chip and it goes head-to-head with the 13″ MBP with only a few minor omissions that I don’t care about at all. I’m waiting for a large expense report check to come in from work, and when that does, I’m going to pull the trigger.
Happy Birthday, monkey.
This is the first weekend in a long time where we’ve been home. Like, in our own house for two days. Jen has been socked in with work for several weeks, and a lot of it has come to a head, so we thought we’d take a break from driving south to Lexington Park and stay around the homestead. I’ve had a lot of things around the house piling up in our absence, so I took the opportunity to knock a couple of them out.
The first thing was replacing two basement windows that were original to the house. I’d ordered replacements back in March and they finally arrived about a month ago; I’ve been waiting for a solid weekend to tackle the project. Pulling the old windows was pretty quick work—they were only held in by two sets of ancient brass hinges and a hook and eye latch. I cleaned up the wooden surrounds, cut and installed baffles, and slotted them into place. With some careful carpentry the inside baffles got nailed into place, and they got caulked tight. Now we can have open windows and enjoy fresh air in the basement! A miracle.
The second project is one Jen has been asking about since last year: painting the garage to match the house. I started out by scraping the west side and got it ready for paint. After cleaning both my guns and consolidating the remaining paint, I filled the compressor and sprayed out the west side and half of the driveway side before running out. I’m going to have to repair some of the plywood on the front side and do a lot more scraping overall, but it looks pretty good so far.
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Finn has been binging a new videogame for the past month, and has been asking me to play with her. It’s a survival/exploration game called Ark, where you land on an island teeming with dinosaurs and have to learn how to gather food, build tools and shelter, and tame those same dinosaurs to help you advance. She’s been playing on her iPad, but I can’t load it on my phone and squint at tiny menus. I saw that it was available for the Xbox so I ordered a used copy on Amazon and installed it on the console. From there it demanded a 100GB update, so we waited days for the console to choke that down (it puts itself to sleep after an hour, so I had to constantly keep it awake) and then two more updates before we could play.
Once that was done, we picked up our controllers and started a new world together. And found, very quickly, that it was almost impossible to navigate in 2-player mode. They split the screen horizontally, so the top half is one character view and the bottom half is another, but they didn’t change the menu system to fit that resolution. So when you go into the menu system (and half the game is spent here) it’s still the size and shape of an iPad and you have to squint at tiny little icons smushed into the narrow space given. It’s like looking at the menu bar of Word 97 through a peephole: impossible unless you know exactly what you’re looking for. I tried for several nights but found it almost unusable.
She then found a new game called Albion and started playing that. Seeing that it was available for the Mac, I downloaded a copy and tried it on my 8-year-old laptop, which slowed to a gelatinous crawl, cooling fans struggling to keep the processor from melting. I thought about it for a day or so and decided I’d pull the trigger and finally buy the iPad Pro I’ve been looking at since they were released. Playing games with Finn was a big part of the decision, but the other reason was that I want to work in Procreate with the Apple Pencil and learn how to illustrate with the system. I bought a new 11″ unit with the Pencil and picked it up at the local Apple Store this past week. The early review is very favorable: playing Albion on it is easy and fun! We spent a couple of hours on Friday getting me set up in the game and understanding how not to die. Now I have to catch up to her character level.
This is the first device I’ve owned with Face ID, and it’s very slick. The Pencil is fast and responsive. I bought Procreate and started fooling around in the program but it’s going to take a lot of time to sort out how I use it and get the most out of it. Getting used to the way the brushes and pressure work is an uphill battle, especially for someone as picky about the tactile feel and orientation of scratchboard tools as I am. I’m going to start out trying to mimic what I know and love, and then see where the app takes me.
“…we have organized your room as much as possible…”
Translation: Not organized at all, in any way shape or form.
Unless you count stuff placed in multiple bags which are then strewn around the floor and boxes stacked inside the crib so that no baby would be able to lay down in it. But yes, the crib is put together and placed in the room where it will eventually go. Everything else (baby clothes, booty care, legal transportation) is doing its own thing elsewhere in the house.
Nesting? Believe the hype and despair.
…
Ready for hot stone massage!
Pantywaist. There’s that lovely word again. I would have thought its proper spelling was “pantywaste.” Huh. I’m learning so many new things from you! That kid is going to have a great vocabulary.
I checked, just to be sure:
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/pantywaist
The synonyms are great too: milksop, namby-pamby. Milksop doesn’t have the same lovely ring to it though.
I still say it’s this version, much more colorful and disgusting:
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=pantywaste
Tbtine, you’ve obviously been studying up with those urban flashcards. C’mon, fess up.
I gots to be keepin’ it real, home slice.