Hawaii

Hawaii proved to be too rich a subject for our camera battery--after a flurry of picture-taking the day and a half before my sister Christie's wedding, the battery went on strike and would only take a handful of shots before needing to be recharged all over again. We had to borrow my parent's camera for half the trip, which is why this post has no actual pictures of Christie the bride or Joe, her very excellent groom. (Note to the family--now would be a good time to do that photo-sharing we talked so much about.)

When you go to a well-known tourist destination like Hawaii, I'm not convinced that your photos need a lot of captions--certainly the sun, waves, and smiles can all speak for themselves, and common knowledge can fill in most of the blanks ("The kids rode a boogie board at the beach; they liked it a lot.")


Sage and Lucy met their charming little cousin Ellie for the first time on this trip--a spirited game of tag was not too far behind.

You'll notice that I'm wearing regular khaki shorts in the picture below. All beach trips with our kids follow the same pattern:
1) Yay! We're finally at the beach. Let's go to the hotel and unpack our things.
2) OK, we'll go to the beach first, but we're just going to look at the waves.
3) OK, you can walk along the beach, but don't get your shoes wet.
4) Your shoes are wet. I'll hold them while you stick your feet in the water, but roll up your pants so they don't get wet.
5) Your pants are wet. Yes, you can wade around in the water as long as I don't have to come get you.
6) Now my pants are wet.
A couple days after this picture I stepped on a sea urchin while snorkeling with K., souring somewhat my love of reef exploration. The spines pierced straight through my aqua socks--but you should see the other guy :)


Know Your Relatives: Can you spot Grandpa, Lucy the Flower Girl, Ian the Ring Bearer, and Uncle Bryce in this picture?
Sadly, this shot of everyone's backs is the only actual wedding picture our camera afforded us before lapsing into another coma.

And this is from a cool excursion we took with my Dad to 'Iao Valley State Park.
Tropical Storm Flossie brought a lot of wind and fog that day, which actually enhanced the valley's natural awesomeness.

See for yourself:

And here's some of the usual suspects (including Grandma and Grandpa, and cool uncles Bryce and Bob) overlooking a surf spot on Maui before catching our flight to Waikiki Beach. Pictured or unpictured, it was so good to see my whole family after a long time away, and you couldn't ask for a better occasion to bring us all together.

Daytrips from Elsewhere

Not much text this time--since we got our digital camera K. and I have probably taken over 1000 pictures. I've just discovered that Flickr is holding some of my better shots for ransom until I upgrade to a paying account, but here are some that managed to escape capture:























Hopefully the next post will have some pics of white sand and blue water...

My Time of Day

My time of day is the dark time
A couple of deals before dawn
When the street belongs to the cop
And the janitor with the mop
And the grocery clerks are all gone.

When the smell of the rainwashed pavement
Comes up clean, and fresh, and cold
And the streetlight lamp
Fills the gutter with gold

That's my time of day
My time of day
Any you're the only doll I've ever wanted to share it with me.

-Frank Loesser, Guys and Dolls

Since she was born, Nora and I have been taking quite a few walks in the moonlight, especially during that liminal period--not quite midnight, not quite dawn--when both the human and animal worlds are operating on a skeleton crew. At first I was too foggy-headed to do anything but count the lights in buildings throughout our apartment complex. More often than not, the same rooms would be lit up every night, some of them with the familiar blue-white flicker denoting misspent youth. After I got tired of feeling morally superior to couch potatoes, I started to venture out to the main road to listen to the low roar of distant traffic. It reminded me of the summer between college semesters when I worked the dish pit at Red Robin. Sauntering home at two in the morning, still smelling of grease and bleach, I got a childish delight in walking the dividing line between lanes, all the motorists snug in their beds for another three or four hours.

You keep strange, sparse company when you walk around after midnight. This morning, at around 3am, a man pulled up in a truck and asked me where he could find a convenience store that was still open. I really had no idea. If New York is "the city that never sleeps," Elsewhere could be called "the city that sleeps"--at 8pm even downtown is barren and ghostly. Out here in the country, I've spotted the occasional black flap of a bat or pale hop of a wild hare, but to be honest I've had more close encounters in broad daylight. In the wooded railroad tracks behind our apartment I've startled hidden deer and stared down baby raccoons, but always in the bright contrast of mid-afternoon. Now, in the early hours of morning I hear the incessant twittering of nocturnal romantics, but it wasn't until yesterday that Nora and I met a frog the size of a plum, who moved only after I brushed his hind leg with a twig.

Your thoughts can be surprisingly clear when you walk in familiar surroundings removed of people. You see the same buildings and streets uncomplicated by their daily purposes--things temporarily without motive, things as they can only be at rest. I haven't had any life-changing epiphanies, but my thoughts flow without interruption and I sing softly in the open air. Years ago, when Ian was a baby, I walked him around the church across the street, belting out the wrong words to "Danny Boy." You don't have license to do these things without a fussy baby on your shoulder. Last week I was shuffling Nora around a strip mall when we crossed paths with a street sweeper and its driver. It was an hour before sunrise, light enough to see my pajamas and disheveled hair, but the question on the driver's lips faded when he saw little Nora in my arms. I wouldn't be up this early without a newborn to coddle. Thanks, doll.

A Little More a' Nora

"A Lullaby for Nora"
Come to sleep, my dear little baby
Come to sleep, in the dark of the night
Come to sleep, for I am right with you
For this is home.
--By Ian

Introducing Little Baby Nora

Late Thursday afternoon, K. thought she might be having contractions. By the time the kids went to bed at 8:30, she was sure. At 9 we put on Emma, and by 11 we were driving to the birth center. Along the way we saw an opossum, looking for a safe way across the road. I'd never seen a live opossum before, so we took this as a lucky sign.

At 1:04am little Nora was born. (On her uncle Bryce's birthday, no less. Happy Birthday, Bryce! Have a niece.) She knew mom was dreading a long labor, and made haste in a very obliging manner. This is a picture of her just a few minutes after she was born.As with the other kids, we bounced names off of her until Nora stuck. Her middle name is Christine, kinda sorta halfway between the names of her mother and aunt.

This is a picture of Nora's happy, bleary-eyed mom before a decent rest.
And this is a picture of her dad, obviously after one.
Nora's sisters have been very excited to hold her. Even the deposed Princess Lucy has been eager to nurture "baby No-wa".
Proud big brother Ian immediately wrote Nora a lullaby (lyrics to follow in another post).
We got to liking the name Nora after we heard it attached to Norah Jones, and little Nora has taken it upon herself to wail a bit in honor of the bluesy singer.Her voice doesn't precisely convey the "honey and smoke" of Miss Jones, but it's sweet nonetheless.

Here's Nora and her mother, sharing a moment. We can't believe she's finally here!

PS: 8 lbs, 1 oz, 20 and 1/2 inches. Dark hair, obviously.