Their mother is away more often now as she’s constantly searching for their diet, making them easier to record.

Note there’s still one egg. That last egg showed up in the nest a few days after the first three, so that makes sense.

Here’s video:

I find everything about birds, the nests they build, and the way thew grow totally amazing.

Post-work, I found myself in a keenly alive and exuberant mood and decided to prove it with photographic evidence of spring’s springiness. I used rhyme to emphasize the season’s egregious sense of whimsy.

ahem.

First I saw a strawberry plant hung like a king, a setup I didn’t know existed prior to spring.

I walked around the yard all rooty-toot-toot. Then I spied these tulips looking pretty cute.

Hostas get large, and grow really fast. These hadn’t even sprouted yet, week before last.

The trees don’t have leaves yet, but try hard they do. These red ones will be sexy in another day or two.

One thing you can find without using a map – everywhere you look, a bird has made crap.

Ahoy there geraniums, backyard color’s main course! Geraniums, geraniums, this rhyme was forced.

…Dandelions are stupid.

So much mowing ahead, at that I do scoff. I also hack, sneeze, wheeze, sniff and cough.

It’s spring inside too, you old scuttlebutt. The birds got a new swing made from a coconut.

Another new fence project, it’s certainly spring. Wood piled around can mean only one thing.

Holes dug in the ground, they wait to be filled. A beautiful fence extension I soon will build.

The old fence remains, but just that one piece. That seems sillier than a car made of geese.

Why would that happen? Well, haven’t you heard?

…because in that little section, bird is the word.

That’s right. It’s spring, and I made bad rhymes. Drink it in.

I’m putting up 5 more fence panels to extend last year’s fence up the side of my back patio. When tearing down the old fence that was there, we found a lady robin had plopped out four little baby blues into a very well-constructed nest. Despite the fact I really want to get this fence built so I can get it out of the way and continue focusing on the babies’ nursery inside, I can’t destroy this bird’s babies to do so. That seems like a karma fail. Plus, look how awesome that nest is. BRILLIANT.

I like to think people are generally good. I like to believe that someday we will evolve past our mental, cultural and social infirmities. I like to hope we will eventually advance and unify as humans, even if it’s unlikely. It may be unnatural for a species to achieve homogeneity the way sci-fi shows often depict humans hundreds of years from now, but it’s still a thing worth shooting for. The world isn’t sad and humanity isn’t hopeless. Only a miniscule few individuals are garbage.

When a terrible thing happens, it’s great to see people taking care of each other and helping one another- but it’s always clouded by the awful. Even more potent than the joy felt from seeing people working together is the disappointment in the actions of the select few that caused the problem. Even though thousands, millions of people collide to bring peace and order, everyone’s emotions stick with the negative effects of the handful responsible for the chaos. It’s a twisted play on the human condition.

The best people can do is keep promoting the good.

It would be easy to be weary of bringing new people into our world. Crap is always happening. We live among frequent, repetitive bouts of violence and fear. There are always things to be scared of… but that much is not new. There always have been, and in the foreseeable future, there always will be terrible things going on. We just need to keep showing people how to be good. We need to listen, think and educate one another. We need to take responsibility. It’s up to the 99.99% of us who aren’t monsters to continue to teach one another, and especially our youth, about harmony and peace, so that one day we can endure in that world of futuristic unity that now only exists in fiction.

Across from the foot of our bed is our poodle’s crate. She likes to take naps in there during the day and sleeps there at night. The crate gets in the way and smells weird, but it serves as a splendid pedestal for resting one’s basket full of laundry during the folding process. It’s also great for smashing toes into at 4am when you get up to urinate.

Anywho… I was folding some laundry. Luna walked into the room and looked at me. I returned her gaze and we both stopped in time.

She took a few steps towards her crate and halted, staring into it, as if to examine the emptiness. I watched her closely and wondered what she was doing. She became statuesque, and I gained an opportunity to use a snobbish “-esque” word in context.

Seconds later, a sock fell out of the laundry basket and landed in front of her on the rug. She looked at it curiously.

My sci-fi brain kicked in something special.

“Did you know that was going to happen?” I asked. She turned to me and tilted her head, the way the Observers would look at characters on Fringe when they were seeing the future or reading their minds.

I grew slightly frightened and excited.

“…September? Donald? Is… is that you?” I asked. “Did you stop because you knew that sock was going to fall, and you wanted to allow me to pick it up?”

She un-cocked her head. I picked up the sock. I examined it, finding it to be a normal sock. For a moment, I thought I saw it fade, as if not from this universe. But it could have been the beer.

I came to the conclusion my dog has powers. Her behavior was curious, and timed perfectly with a seemingly unpredictable event. There’s no other explanation than some sort of psychic, evolved brain function. I mean… coincidence is an explanation, but that one is less interesting and wouldn’t have forced you to read 500 words about essentially nothing.

As I threw the sock in the pile, Luna walked into the crate and started chewing on her leg.

I will check the back of her head for an implant later. Something tells me she will read this in the future and knows I’m going to do that, giving her a chance to hide it from me. Assuming she can also read. Who would know, really?

But you haven’t seen… this.

This is what I do after a long day of work.

I said to my dogs “Hey dogs, do something interesting and I’ll record it. We will put it on the internet. People will enjoy watching you, so it will be great!”

Tails wagged. Heads cocked to the side. They looked at me as if they understood.

It seems they did not.

Last night I re-watched the season one finale of Star Trek: TNG titled “The Neutral Zone.” In the episode, the crew happens across a derelict vessel from Earth that has been floating in space for hundreds of years. Data’s curiosity leads him to beam on board, and he discovers three humans cryogenically frozen in capsules on the ship. With its destruction a certainty after centuries of decay, he has them beamed to the Enterprise and awoken. Each person had been frozen when they died, the intent being that they could be revived sometime in the future when medical science had figured out how to heal them. This works out great for them, and each ends up in perfect health.
The rest of the episode focuses on these three, and how they handle suddenly living 350 years from the life they knew.

There’s another plotline where the ship is encountering the Romulans for the first time in 50+ years. This forces the ship into a very tumultuous and potentially fatal situation, and it’s really quite a big deal, and it parallels the story of the humans from the 21st century that suddenly woke up in the 24th. This is the plotline the episode is named after, but is more of a device than the focus of the story. The reason the humans fear the Romulans so greatly is due to a lack of information about them. A lack of information is the basis of the same tension between the Enterprise crew and the humans it accepted on board.

The episode reminded me of those days when I thought how fun it would be to teach a person from the past about the present, and forced me to wonder whether or not that would actually be a fun task.

The individuals awoken consist of a woman who finds herself very depressed knowing that everyone she ever loved is dead, a rich financier who can’t handle the fact that in Roddenberry’s future, people aren’t measured by money, possessions and the “power” that comes from a sense of status, and a formerly drug-addled southern musician who actually gets along quite nicely in the future. The episode shows each person trying to overcome their own problems, while adapting to their new environment.

Consider this: Abraham Lincoln was wise as hell. He’s one of the greatest minds in American history. He reformed the country’s entire existence and way of life. Before him, all the forefathers that we still hold in such high regard when quoting issues of rights, were brilliant thinkers in 1776. They’d all be practically idiots now. Sure, they would still possess the cognition and logical thought that would serve them well in conversation and understanding. But for real, they don’t even know what a lamp is.

In the episode, we watch the characters deal with concepts like “America” not being a thing, but Earth being a unified planet. They interact with other races, and with Data, and the one “with the head.” They don’t know what to do with their spare time in a world without television, booze or money. They think the Braves are still playing, and that law firms from the past will still be in business, or even necessary. They can’t come to terms with the lack of banks, phones, and have to understand people no longer work to acquire things and dollars, but to better themselves and the society they’re living in. They have to learn to understand that people haven’t just evolved in science and technology, but as a race as a whole. Control and power aren’t what they used to be. An understanding of purpose has a whole new meaning. Gender roles are gone, morality is up, and humans don’t operate as they once did. The characters work to wrap their minds around all this, and they do it all in gender-neutral navy blue scrubs with waist ties and black turtlenecks.

I recall sitting on the floor in my 3rd grade classroom, listening to a story read by the teacher. Mrs. Rogers was my her name (she was reasonably old in 1993 and is likely not alive now) and she thought I was awesome because I was the only 8 year-old who could correctly spell Jaromir Jagr. It was on that floor where my mind first wandered to these thoughts about teaching a person from the past about the present.

As an 8 year-old, I couldn’t fathom how complex this really would be. I didn’t understand what the world really held. I thought it would be fun and exciting. I thought it would make me seem like a god among men, my wisdom overflowing into this “great” mind to teach them what a damn lamp is. I didn’t realize how big the world is, or think about the emotional effect it would have on someone. Or the fear. The incredible, unavoidable fear of waking up in a world where you literally know nothing.

There’s a lot of really bad episodes in Season 1 of Star Trek TNG, and this episode technically isn’t much different. But it’s a personal favorite of mine. The idea of somehow preserving our bodies so we could live hundreds of years from now is something that everyone has considered. Nobody wants to go, and we all want to stick around as long as we can. But if I somehow manage to be alive 350 years from now, I hope I do so in a linear fashion. Jumping a few centuries and waking up staring at Gates McFadden, (as awesome as that might be assuming people in the 24th century still get boners in their space unitards), would be terrifying.

And I think the child inside me who always wanted to teach George Washington about lamps, microwaves and drive-through cheeseburgers might have underestimated exactly what that task would entail.

Which leads me to my next project…

Aside from the fact they’re squishy, don’t have knees and are incredibly dumb, I don’t know a thing about babies.  I’ve always been one of the youngest members of my entire extended family, save for a few cousins who all live in different states.  I changed my cousin Max’s diaper once when he was 1 and I was 12.  Not many people I know have babies and I never did any babysitting.  I sometimes make goofy faces at them in public to see if they will giggle in response, but that’s really the pinnacle of what I’ve contributed to human development.  My aggregate time spent around babies in 27.6 years is likely somewhere around 6 hours. 

So suddenly having two of my own ought to be pretty hilarious.

As such, I am starting a second blog for the purpose of writing about these escapades.  It won’t be a “daddy blog” per se, as it’s often going to represent the perspective of both Laura and I.  It won’t be all “parenty” because that sounds boring and would end up as a checklist of things to not do.  I plan to make it pretty unusual, often strange, and as tasty as you would expect.  I’ll start immediately, with the prep and craziness that comes with the road to birth, then once they shoot from the womb I will document my numerous self-deprecating moments and make a mockery of human nature.

So go, venture forth.  Because I’ll know if you don’t read it, and top men will be dispatched to punch you in the sternum.  Top.  Men.

www.welltaketwo.com

Hey person. Jeff here. Good to see you again.

If you are a member of the small (but incredibly intelligent and magical) community of people who read my typing on a regular basis, you’ll know some things about me.

1. I have an internet friendship with Anne Wheaton that perpetually borders on stalking.
2. I don’t like Rihanna.
3. I built a fence.
4. My wife and I have been failing at making babies for a few years.

Well heck, I guess that list needs updated a little bit.  Not everything on there is true anymore.

December 23 has always been a good day for me.  All through my childhood, it was not just the last day of school before two weeks of delicious Christmas vacation, but it was also my grandpa’s birthday. My tiny family would go out for a nice dinner somewhere, have a swell time and give gramps some gifts.  In 2008, it was the day I proposed to Laura.  In 2011, it was the day I started my Amazon business that now serves as my full-time job.  And in 2012, it’s the day Laura jumped on me at 3am to tell me she was pregnant.

YEAH, SON. THAT.

A few weeks after our last visit to the fertility office, Laura woke up in the middle of the night with the need to dispense fluids.  Planning to take a pregnancy test the next morning, she got anxious and decided 3am was as good a time as any.  Her expectations were not high, as we had a long time of nothing but failure and both learned to not get overly excited since it only makes the disappointment worse.  She glanced at the test expecting to see a negative, sighed a sigh of acceptance, and immediately began a double-take when she noticed the little bugger wasn’t negative at all.  It was bright and boldly positive.

I of course learned all this after she ran back to the bedroom, leaped onto the bed like a gazelle, slapped me in the chest and whisper-screamed “I’m pregnant!!!” with all the unrestricted fervor that merits me using multiple exclamation points whether you like it or not.

We stayed awake for several hours having heart attacks of joy.

Christmas passed, I got the flu, she got a flu shot, the holidays ended, and in January we had an appointment to go to the fertility office to get things confirmed and checked out.  They would do a 6 week ultrasound to make sure the bits and blobs all looked as they should.  I had never seen an ultrasound outside of House or in movies, so it was a really exciting prospect.  Plus I’d be looking at a nugget that would become MY OWN little person.  That’s wild and crazy, kids.

So we went.  She put her feet in the stirrups.  I sat on the dad chair and began studying the ultrasound tech’s every tick.  Naturally with all we had to do to make this baby, we were concerned something would be wrong.  I watched her face for an eyebrow raise of strangeness, or a squint of trouble.  I tapped my foot like a boat motor and tried to see her flinch.  She was totally Van Damme.  Minutes passed and she didn’t say a word.  I started to grow concerned by the silence.  What was taking so long?  What was happening in there?  Her eyebrows never moved and she was as focused as a Tour Pro putting for eagle.  A few more minutes passed.  I was getting more nervous by the second.  Then she spoke.

“Ok,” she said.  “So… there’s two.”

I can’t quite explain the emotional reaction to that news.  It’s an instant combination of shit-your-pants-fear and unmatched excitement.  We both started laughing, and at the same time our hearts were beating like we’d just filmed Super Size Me 2.  You can’t stop smiling, and you sort of want to barf.  It’s wild.

As we waited for the doctor to talk to us after the ultrasound, we sat in complete silence for 20 minutes, just holding hands and staring at the wall as our minds shuffled a million of the exact same thoughts.

The photo of Laura at the top of the post was taken two days ago.  We’re at 13 weeks now, and everything is going great. With every passing day, we come up with more and more things to think about, plan for and fear.  It’s the most terrifying and thrilling thing ever.  The time is passing at a rapid pace, yet I can’t wait for the end of summer to come.  And we still often find ourselves sitting and staring at the wall like we’ve just been told the news.