August 28, 2009

Last weekend was not a time for me to have a puppy.  Actually, let me take that back … right now PERIOD is not a good time for me to have a puppy.  I have been so easily agitated and irritable these last 6 weeks, and unfortunately you are more likely to find me in a bad mood than a nice one, which sucks.  I try to make myself feel better by at least acknowledging that I’m being nasty, rather than running amuck and not taking responsibility for it.  It seems like I am constantly apologizing when at home.  And I feel horrible about it.  I just am lacking the necessary patience to be involved with other life forms at the moment.

Sure, I did the usual: “Oh it’s just PMS” thing.  Then, I miscalculated and thought maybe I was pregnant and that was the perfect justification!  But it turns out I’m not … pregnant, that is.  I’m just a bitch because of stress and frustration over a few situations.  And, honestly, if I were pregnant it would be a great scape goat, but would definitely only add to the current stress.  Now just isn’t the right time.

Usually, my funk doesn’t present too bad of problem, but last night I think the City Boy and I were both in foul moods.  I came home and had a melt down that I felt chained to the downstairs of my home.  With the puppy constantly chewing and jumping and trying to climb upstairs I feel like I can’t do anything I want or need to do (like laundry, cleaning the house, getting on my laptop, etc.)  CB told me last night that he had the same thoughts and suggested we just take turns watching the pup so the other can get done what is needed.  I liked the idea, so I went first.

Last night I had 2 entire hours in the evening to catch up on random organization activities: I put away last week’s laundry, gathered up this week’s laundry, cleaned the bathroom, made the bed, and sat in the silence of our bedroom with my laptop and backed-up important information to DVD.  Nothing extravagant, but when I think of all the little things that have been going by the wayside, I felt better.  Only after I was finished and it was time to go to bed did I realize that CB wasn’t feeling so hot either.  And then I felt bad for basking in the silence and not considering that maybe he needed that too.  Guess I’ll be making that up to him this weekend.

Tonight we are driving to Lakeland to meet with one of CB’s college buddies for a wine tasting.  With the upcoming trip to Cincinnati next week, paying for our wedding photographer, and sending my application fee for the Florida Mortgage Brokers license my first reaction to going was, “NOooooo!  Not another thing that requires dollars!”  But, I think he needs some time with a buddy.  So, we’re going.  It will be fun … I just need to pull my head out of my ass and relax for crying out loud.


In other, although relative, news I ordered clickers last week from eBay.  So, we are in the beginning stages of training Lexi with it.  Before exiling myself to the bedroom last night I took her outside and started some of the training.  It was so fun to see her “get it”.

Last week we really struggled with all the biting she does.  It’s play biting … but still.  That HURTS and it’s annoying, and it’s hard not to get angry with her when she bites too hard.  I’ve tried several tactics to minimize the behavior, but was coming up horribly short … and short tempered (see beginning of this post).  So, when all else failed, I went to YouTube.  I found a trainer who suggested that when puppies play bite with humans, the best way to make them stop is to mimic the behavior of one of their canine playmates.  Yelp.  This is how dogs communicate to each other that, “Hey that hurts Dude”.  And it’s true, because that’s what happens every time Lexi and Pieter play together.  So, all day on Sunday when she would put her mouth on our hands, fingers or toes we would over exaggerate the pain and say very loudly, “OUCH!”  And it worked!  We are still working on her, and she does need reminder yelps from time to time, but she is learning which is the main thing. 

Lexi is a German Shepherd/Rottweiler mix.  We looked it up and both breeds are within the top 10 most intelligent dog breeds, so we’re confident that she can in fact learn.  We just need to learn how to communicate what we want with her. 

See!? When I’m in a good mood I think I have the right attitude with her … it has just been a struggle to stay balanced lately.  I am hoping that September is a better month for us than August was.  I blame my split-personalities primarily on adjusting to the new house, having less funds to work with due to wedding expenses, new house expenses, puppy expenses, etc. 


In the meantime, I need to just take a deep breath and realize that I can’t control everything.  Everything is not up to me to fix … and just shut the hell up already!  I wish I could be clicker trained sometimes.



August 25, 2009

August 25th 2008 – marked my last day on the job in Jacksonville.  I was working as Controller in a start-up corporation.  The previous year and a half had been filled with LATE night (think like, 5 am) work sessions, staff meetings, weekends, policy writing, financial groundwork being set, venture capitalist group found and funds received.  Hysterical management, intense emotion fueled confrontations, upset employees, tyrannical rule, etc.  I enjoyed every bit of it (except the tyrannical rule.  If you know me, you know that this didn’t fly).  For the first year and few months, I NEEDED the place to keep my sanity.  I was in an angry marriage, which was filled with its own tyrannical rule and intense confrontations.  My job, my office, long hours and my usefulness in the organization was the only thing that gave me purpose, hope, a place.  But once I decided to get out of the horrible relationship I had resigned myself to for a decade, the position – the arguing, the headaches – just didn’t have the same appeal. 

The following weekend was Labor Day weekend.  It was a momentous occasion in its own rite because I was taking the City Boy home to Northern Kentucky to meet my family.  It would be only the second time I had seen them myself in the past 4 year period, so I had my own reasons to be nervous … but if you add to it the introductions of a new love … a new love belonging to a different race, you can understand the importance and magnitude of the 3-day weekend.

I grew in up in the suburbs of Cincinnati, Ohio.  On the Kentucky side of the Ohio River.  It truly was one of the best places in America to grow up.  People not only left (and STILL do) their front doors unlocked and car doors unlocked, but I know several women who feel safe enough to even leave their purse overnight in an unlocked car parked in the driveway.  We attended public schools (the most successful public schools in the state at that time), played sports, attended family dinner almost weekly, and if you lived in my house we had family debates during dinner about social issues.  It wasn’t perfect, believe me.  My parents had their share of problems and drama, Dad had faced several lay-offs and economic hardships.  We went without cars as teenagers, and had to provide for our own college education, but the love was there which is what truly matters.  The one ingredient missing from my childhood was diversity.  It wasn’t a question of whether you were Atheist or Christian.  The question was, which sect of Christianity did you practice?  There really weren’t any racially different people to be found in my county, with the exception of 2 mixed families that we grew up with in school. 

So, my nervousness was not based on an inherent racist attitude … but just lack of experience on my family’s part.  I’m the only one of my immediate family to move away … to experience different people and places.  They were just very inexperienced with people who were culturally, racially, spiritually different.  Leave it to me … the Black Sheep, independent middle child to “broaden” their cultural horizons.

We flew into the Cincinnati Airport, only about 5 miles from my parents’ house.  The flight got in around 11:30pm and by the time we retrieved our rental car and made it to the house it was almost 1 in the morning.  He was nervous, I was nervous.  I was afraid someone in my family would say something unintentionally offensive, or perhaps I was nervous that everyone else would be too nervous to relax and enjoy themselves. 

I had already told them of our differences (I didn’t want a “Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner” introduction), and they were accepting and welcoming of him.  My family knew what a hard time I had with my ex, so they were just ecstatic that he loved me like he did.  My mother already loved him, based solely upon the things I had shared with her.  When I spoke to my father a few weeks before the trip and told him about our racial differences, I was a little nervous.  Not that my father would disapprove of the City Boy being a Black man, but because I knew what his previous attitude toward inter-racial couples consisted of.  I told him about how happy City Boy made me.  How wonderful life was now that he was in it.  My dad told me he approved, that of course he was welcome in his home and family, and that whoever it was that rode the big white horse into my life would be loved and respected by my father.

I promised the City boy that we would sit down and have a drink with the family as soon as we arrived so he could calm his nerves.  He is such a “people person” I knew he’d be fine, and didn’t anticipate many awkward silences.  It was just a bit overwhelming when we walked through the door.  EVERYONE was there in the foyer, waiting to hug us and meet The Best Man To Ever Be Birthed in These United States.  My Dad, Mother, Patrick my older brother, his fiancé, Sarah my little sister, her husband, Austin my little brother and even the family gigantic Golden Retriever.  I hugged everyone and tried to corral everyone into the fresh air of the kitchen.  Despite my nerves, I was so glad to see him standing in my parents’ house.  This was real.

The rest of the already late evening was spent on the back deck.  Everyone fired questions to the City Boy about his family, his likes & dislikes; he did the same trying to recall the bits of trivia I had shared with him about each person at the table.  Typical “getting to know you” chit chat.  Around 2:30am my father and Austin excused themselves to bed, and my brother’s fiancé had already left for the night.  All that remained were Patrick, Sarah, my mother and us.  Suddenly, the conversation became a little quiet.  I expected someone to eventually bring up our glaring difference, I was White and he was Black.  I just never expected it to be Patrick!  Of the siblings in my family, he is the least confrontational.  But, he had had a few drinks and I guess was willing to step it up.

I can’t remember exactly what he said.  It wasn’t anything rude or crass … just a mere innocent question asked between two guys who shared love for a common person, ME in this case.  I believe he asked him something like, “Are you nervous to be meeting us due to the racial difference?” or something like that.

Even though I knew it wasn’t a charged statement, and was being asked simply out of curiosity and nothing more, I held my breath.  My mother, sister and I looked at each other like, “Did Patrick just ask that question?!?”  The City Boy smiled, and said he was glad that P asked the question.  It sounded like, “Thank you for bringing it up … now we can address it and move on.”

His response was perfect.  I wish I remembered the exact words, but they don’t really matter.  What matters is that P felt comfortable enough to state the obvious.  And the City Boy was now much more relaxed because of it.  Sigh of relief.

The remainder of our trip was a slew of introductions.  We had breakfast with my best friend and her husband.  Lunch with another girlfriend, dinner at my sister’s.  A picnic at my aunt & uncles house where it seemed he must have shaken hands with 100 or more people.  The next day was another picnic at my brother’s future in-laws place.  By the time we boarded the plane for Florida on Monday, we were both exhausted.  But I was so happy to have that step out of the way.  They liked him, they really liked him.  Of course, I wasn’t worried about that going into it.  He’s an amazing man – if they didn’t like him I would know that they are just serially insane. 

Sure, I caught a “vibe” from a few of the older members of the family that they did not approve.  I suppose it is to be expected from people who grew up with “old school” mentalities.  Of course, they didn’t bother to say anything … just a sideways glance and not much attempt to have an introduction.  Oh well.  Not everyone will be happy.

Upon our return to the South, we began making plans to move away from Jacksonville.  Was it going to be Phoenix?  Tampa?  Orlando?  We chose Orlando, and within a month had moved into a 2-bedroom condo and began making our life together. 

The next step?  Meeting his family in Chicago. 

(to be continued …)

Wedding Planning = Trial & Error

August 22, 2009

Stage 1 of the wedding planning began in April, believe it or not. I knew where I wanted to get married since we had started talking about it last year. Alms Park Pavillion in Cincinnati, OH.  


It is a historic park with a two-story stone pavilion complete with wonderful arches and open air areas that overlooks the Ohio River. I had catered there with my aunt a few times in college and always thought it was a great solution for someone who wanted to get married outside.



Our wedding is planned for the Saturday of Memorial Day next year, May 29th 2010. In order to be the first to reserve Alms Park, we had to use their voicemail system and be the first to request the park as of midnight May 1st. We stayed up all night, and when the clock struck midnight I had recruited several people to frantically dial in and leave the coveted “first message”. I dialed and re-dialed for over 32 minutes and could not reach a line. The City Boy tried for a good 20 minutes without success. My mother was working at the hospital that night and promised that she would give it a try. When I had finally given up, I called her very distraught.

“Well, I guess we probably won’t get our date.” I said

“Don’t be so sure”, she giggled. “My friend Linda had the night off work tonight, and she and her husband were calling in for you too. They finally got through at 14 minutes after midnight and placed our request for the 29th.”

I was so excited. We got our place. And I finally drifted off to sleep with thoughts of illuminating paper lanterns, dancing and laughter that was sure to fill our wedding night.

The next morning I mailed in our $500 deposit, completed the contract and crossed “Wedding & Ceremony Venue” off my wedding planning spreadsheet.

The next weekend, my mother, sister and little brother paid us a week long visit. It was a great time complete with two visits to Universal Studios, days at the pool and even decorating my blank walls in the condo we were living in. During one of our late night girl talks, we began talking about wedding planning.

“Your Aunt Donna has told me about some of the costs associated with having a wedding at Alms Park. Did you know that you have to pay an additional 15% historic preservation fee on the total paid for the rental, caterer and bar tender? Plus, what are you going to do if it rains? There really isn’t any place to go for a Plan B.”

Unfortunately, that got me thinking. What if it rained? How much is their preferred vendor (our only option) going to cost us? What will our total PLUS the 15% fee actually cost us once it’s all said and done? Plus, according to the contract, we had to have everything taken down and cleaned up before leaving the night of the party. Did I really want to subject my family to stay after the festivities and clean up everything before going home that night? It hardly seemed fair.

I slept on it a few nights and decided that Alms Park probably wasn’t the best solution. How depressed I was.

Two months later, I attended my sister’s baby shower in Kentucky. While there, my mother and I drove to Batavia, Ohio to visit another venue, Norlyn Manor. It was perfect!

“Friday” Spells “Random”

August 21, 2009

I bought the movie “Taken” last night.  We watched it while dining on a $2.97 bottle of Shiraz and pizza.  I liked it.  The City Boy’s 6-word review is this: “The poor man’s Bourne Supremacy”.  He really loves action movies.  I’m not so fond of them.  I have a hard time keeping my limbs from flailing about as some sort of attempt to help the “good guy” in a fight.  I can usually watch any movie in utter silence … but during an action movie I sound like someone suffering with Tourette’s. “Watch out!” “BASTARD!!” “Run, run.” “No! Don’t go in there you Dumb Ass!!” 

And, yes, I am one of those annoying people who verbalize their prediction of the outcome.  You know, because if I end up right I want it to be noted that I called it.  It’s a strange phenomenon.  Any other type of movie and I am perfectly quiet (unless it’s a comedy and I’m laughing), and I want everyone else to exhibit the same behavior.  Action?  Different ballgame.


We’ve decided to go back to the drawing board on wedding plans.  For this, I am (a) devastated, because I really fell in love with the place I put a deposit on back in June.  (b) elated, because it means I won’t go bankrupt planning a ridiculous party that is forced to end at 11:00pm anyway (c) excited, that I can at least make a decision NOW (unlike the past few months obviously because this means I will have now lost $1,000 in deposits to 2 different venues) and stick to it.  I’m thinking perhaps of using my aunt and uncle’s HUGE house and yard for the venue?  They have a gorgeous house that is perfect (and was actually designed) for entertaining.  I’m not sure what the City Boy will think of it though … or, least not my aunt & uncle.  Maybe I can spring it on them when I’m in town for Labor Day?


On my drive to and from work I pass a large cattle farm.  In the afternoons, the cows meander closer to the road, and due to a very slow-turning stop light, I usually sit and visit with the cows for a few minutes before pulling forward onto the next road.  I’ve always been an animal lover.  ALWAYS.  And not just cats & dogs.  Frogs, rabbits, snakes, fish, cows, goats, kittens, ducks, etc.  All of them.  Since moving to Florida my heart has become EVEN fonder of Sand Hill Cranes, frogs, lizards, alligators, and cows specifically.  I tell this to the City Boy and he looks at me and (without a doubt, every time) says, “You are definitely not a girly girl.”  I personally think it has nothing to do with being a girl.  Just someone who loves animals. 

Anyway, have you ever looked into the eye of a cow? (SIDE NOTE: In Freshman Biology, we dissected cows’ eyeballs.  So, quite literally, I have looked into the eye of a cow.)  But I’m talking about looking into the eye of a cow whom is ALIVE and still has his eyeball intact.  There’s something about them that seems so soulful.  Like, if only we could speak with each other I’m sure we’d be friends.  I know it’s weird.  Hey … if I’m pregnant we can blame the hormones for all this “crazy talk”!


Oh yes, my puppy has explosive diarrhea.  That’s right.  She eats breakfast … she’s fine for about an hour then, BLAUGH!  Yesterday I stayed home from work to clean up her kennel twice.  Poor girl had to be confined to her kennel until we could see improvement on her condition.  Of course, she was let outside 6 or 7 times to run, take a walk, play with Pieter, etc.  Hopefully it passes soon.  I think she upset her tummy by chewing mulch the other day.

In other news … we are going to attempt clicker training with her.  I ordered our clickers over the weekend (hopefully they arrive soon) and have found a great trainer on … drum roll … YouTube.  Look her up, KikoPup.  She’s got several training videos and she makes it look so easy.  God, please grant me patience and perseverance. 

Guess my mantra can be, “I WILL have a well behaved, well balanced, well socialized puppy who does not bite me or eat my couch!”  The updates should be interesting.  Wish us luck! 

Coming Home to Conflict

August 20, 2009

His explanation was lame.  It was pitiful, and I saw right through it.

“I just lost control”, he said nervously, obviously scared and shaken by the pending outcome of our conversation.  “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but emotions were running high … and I was so alone.  I wish I could do things differently, but it’s too late now.”  And then he sighed and looked at me with eyes that were full of regret and remorse, and I could see that he was silently pleading with me to forgive and forget.  But was I able to?

Choking back tears, I was determined to not let him see me upset about it, despite the fact I could have easily thrown myself on the floor and sobbed tears of pain and anguish.  What was I to say?  What COULD I say?  This was a pivotal moment in my life, and I understood the weight of it.  My reaction to this situation would be replayed over and over in my mind for years to come, and I desperately didn’t want to disappoint myself in the distant future.

Gathering the courage I was trying so hard not to lose, I looked him in the eye and smiled. 

“Well, I guess we’ll definitely have to get a coffee table now.  Don’t worry about it, Hon.  It was just an accident.”

Bleach on Floor

He continued to apologize for using Clorox Clean-Up on the carpet … stating that he was moving so fast trying to clean up Pieter’s vomit that he didn’t even put two and two together that it would turn our brand new brown carpet into a light khaki.  Was I upset?  Yes, of course.  But you know what?  We’ve had a HARD year (not necessarily “man & woman” stuff, but just “life” hard).  The City Boy was only trying to help clean up a mess that the dog had made.  It was an honest mistake and the last thing I needed to do was get mad at him for making an error in judgement.

I very quickly thought back to my ex-husband and how demeaning and cruel he was.  I could visualize what this scene would have looked like had I been the one to accidently bleach the carpet in a panic to get something cleaned up.  I could see and hear the horrible things he would say to me.  I would rather die than treat someone who I love more than life that way.  So, I refused to, and I’m so glad I did.

So, looks like we’ll be getting tile floors sooner than we had planned.

Spontaneous: without effort or premeditation

August 14, 2009

Okay, so after sitting and hemming and hawing and feeling sorry for myself last Friday about not being able to see and hold and touch Brooks, or hug my little sister who I worried terribly about … I took an impromptu road trip to KY to see the family, and greet the newest member of the clan.  Unfortunately, the City Boy wasn’t able to go with me (he opted to stay home with the pups, and he had to work early on Monday) so it was just me, a Mountain Dew & the open road.

I left my house in Florida at 4:15pm and pulled into my parents’ driveway Saturday morning at 5:45am.  A world record … especially when you consider the fact that I was up for a continuous 24 hours (exactly) and that I was delirious to the point of hallucinations for the last 200 miles.   The trip was fast … I was out the door and heading back for home at 11:30am Sunday morning.  So, the weekend breaks down like this:

28 hours driving

8 hours sleeping

2 hours eating

8 hours in the hospital with Sarah & Brooks

2 hours in the nursing home with my grandfather

I was trying to surprise the family and just show up at the butt crack of dawn Saturday morning … but my mom called and could tell I was in the car.  I tried to think of a quick fib, and told her I was just going to the store to pick up some groceries.

“You’re on your way up here, aren’t you?!”

There went the surprise.  But, it was nice because when I got tired, she gave me a call to keep me company on the trek up North … or at least until 1 am when she went to sleep.  Austin wanted me to wake him up when I got there, so I jumped on him, told him to scoot over, and fell asleep with him in his bed.  It was the best 4 hours of sleep I’ve ever had!

I managed through Florida with little incident, unless you count my encounter with this fellow …


We were clipping along at a good pace, when suddenly it was evident that I had just plowed through a wall of “dead human stench”.  I looked around to see if I had just passed a mountain of road kill, but the roads appeared to be clear; I looked in my rear view to see if I had just driven over a dead carcass of some sort, but that was clear as well.  Then, I glanced to my left and saw this van trailing behind it an old camper.  Ah ha!  Whoever was driving that van was hauling some poor soul’s rotting corpse up I-75.

My cat-like reflexes were fast on the drawl and I grabbed the Crackberry for a picture, hoping to score the license plate, but it appears I was not successful.  The criminal has escaped and hopefully wherever he parks that thing, the neighbors will be fast to respond and call the authorities. 

Anyway, back to my journey …

I have always loved road trips.  You have so much more control than traveling by air, bus or train.  YOU can set the pace, the schedule, the restroom breaks, etc.  And since I was driving alone, it gave me time to think and listen to my music, and it also afforded me yet another excuse to buy a box of Little Debbie Zebra Cakes.

We will be going back to KY for Labor Day weekend so I can attend my future sister-in-law’s bachelorette party and bridal shower … and so we can hang out with the little Fraggle, Brooks.  I decided months ago that we would drive.  I love the drive up there, through the mountains, and the trees, and the hills and I want the City Boy to see how beautiful it is.  He gets incredibly nervous driving through hilly or curvy terrain (and I do not at all) so since I’ll be driving it will give him an opportunity to relax and just take it all in.  I’m hoping we can pull over off the side of the interstate while in the mountains and take some pretty pictures, and I am also hoping that he enjoys the trip.  It is much easier to be spontaneous with road trips than with airline travel … plus we won’t have to go through government frisking.  Don’t get me wrong, FRISKING is quite okay in my book, as long as you can choose the one who does it … oh, and as long as it isn’t at gunpoint with my shoes off.

Fresh Air

August 7, 2009

Today is no ordinary day.  Today is the birth day of my first nephew, Benjamin Brooks.  We all knew it would be today.  My sister developed preeclampsia early in her pregnancy so a cesarean section was in order.  Last night, I called the family to check and see how the game plan was shaping up … who was going to be at the hospital?  Was Mom going to be able to record the birth?  How was Sarah feeling?  What time were they planning on departing for the hospital?

Speaking to my brother, I told him I now know exactly how he must have felt 11 years ago when he was in Florida at college and our little brother, Austin was born.  It sucks being 1,000 miles away while everyone else gets to celebrate a new life together.  He agreed that it sucks but said “this is even worse though, because we all KNOW when Brooks is going to be born.  We didn’t necessarily know when Austin would make his appearance.  Sucks to be you.”  I tried not to think about it the rest of the evening for fear that I may hop in the Crossfire and make an unplanned journey North.

This morning, I didn’t think too much of it, just a passing thought here and there, “I wonder what they’re doing right now?” and “Is Sarah nervous about the operation?”  I called her cell phone to wish her luck, only then did I remember that she lost her phone yesterday so that would be a moot point.  Unfortunately, I don’t have her husband’s phone number so was unable to annoy them entirely.

On my way to work – okay, while sitting at the drive-thru at McDonalds while en route to work – I received a phone call from my mother.  I thought she was just giving me a pre-game pep talk about the whole occasion, but instead she said that while Sarah was loading up the car this morning to head to the hospital she felt a rush of water and was bleeding.  So, didn’t have much else to report other than they went straight to the hospital and she’d keep me posted with the next update she received.  She was on her way to meet them herself.

Due to the preeclampsia and all the hazards that come with it, I tried not to think about bad things.  I forced thoughts of emergency c-sections and hemorrhaging and dead babies – or, dead sisters.  But of course those thoughts were too strong to be ignored.  I smoked 3 cigarettes on my way to the office … and bit my nails to the quicks.

At 10:00 I called my brother and asked what the status was.  He said they were just waiting, but that there was no real urgent concern about the bleeding.  The doctors were going to move up the scheduled operation, but everyone was calm and positive that there would be no complications.  He promised to call as soon as he knew anything.

Twenty minutes later, my mother called.  She and my sister’s husband were prepped to be present during the operation and were just about to go into the O.R.  She assured me that I would be one of the first to know once the baby was safely out of the womb.  I waited. 


I looked up cars on Craigslist (I want to get rid of my sports car and graduate to something bigger to use for traveling and hauling around 2 pups), I emailed a few friends, updated my Facebook status.  I sent Sarah a text message that I knew she wouldn’t get, but thought it would make me feel somehow closer to the big moment.  I went outside to smoke another cigarette hoping that while I was outside, I might get a call from a family member with an update.  I called my friend Lindsay and asked her to distract me from myself for a few minutes, and she obliged.

We talked about her pending home sale, kids, dogs, husbands, travel plans.


My brother was beeping in on the other line.  I almost hung up on poor Lindsay and didn’t even say ‘hello’ to Patrick.  “Is he here?” is all I wanted to know.

“We haven’t seen him yet, but he is here!  8 pounds and 7 ounces; he was born at 11:07am.  Sarah and Brooks are doing just wonderfully.”

Wow.  We are now aunts and uncles … my parents are now grandparents.  It’s momentous. 

Patrick promised to send me some pics with his camera phone once he is able to, and I hung up elated, and immediately updated the Facebook page so that all of our friends and family could know the outcome, “Brooks is here!  8 lbs 7 oz. born at 11:07 – accounting has lost its appeal at the moment.  Sarah is doing great!”

Beyond that … my first task as a new “crazy aunt who lives 1,000 miles away” was quickly accomplished.


Only 27 more days til I get to hold the little booger, although my mother just called again to tell me how beautiful he is and I’m strongly considering a road trip.