Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Gabriel Is Coy

"Well, of course he's not Jewish!"

"No no - COY. He's being COY."

"Oh. Well, speak up, why don't you??"


We were up a good part of the night as labor seemed to be progressing. Sarah's burst of activity escalated to building a new wing onto the house, which will probably annoy our landlord the next time he visits the premises (next Easter, I think).

To hang the baby's bed, we needed to find ceiling joists in which to anchor the eye-hook. Lacking a stud-finder I resorted to holding a lamplight across the ceiling, measuring 12, 16, 18, 24 inches from a corner, and palpating the ceiling for some sign of a beam. Near as I could tell, the ceiling was domed, so I summoned a friend with more tools.

Chris came over and we blundered about, finding a beam and securing the hardware so the baby's bed now hangs at the right height next to where mommy sleeps. Whew. We rewarded Chris with beer and then settled down to long, rambling conversations about ethnology, the psychology of myth, and string theory. Schroeder participated in his own way by crawling into the kitchen cabinets and eating the shelf paper. Sarah, meanwhile, re-tiled the kitchen counter and planed a closet door using a cheese grater, occasionally enquiring how late the hardware store stays open. She paused at some point to consume a chicken.

This morning labor seems to have backed off a bit. Thus far, Gordon Brown has not returned my phone call and Sarah actually thought about going to work. (A waste of gas, this, as they would promptly send her back home, and Gabriel would no doubt be born somewhere on the 91.)

As I write, Sarah is consuming a pig, and eyeing the shelf paper herself. On her orders, I am getting our shoulder pads and helmets ready - we are going to play a game of tackle football.

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