One really fresh baby

Wow.

I just literally had tears in my eyes as I went over to bring brownies I had baked for the neighbours and lo and behold I met 7-pound, 11-ounce, Charles Elliot Zonta who was born two-and-a-half hours ago.

Wow. A perfect little bundle and Mike had a smile no one could erase. Both grandmas and two midwives were in the house and they were thankful for the brownies.

But, wow, I just can't believe that perfect little boy came out of little Beth. I know it may sound corny and naive and whatever else, but I'm just so amazed by babies right now. And I really feel surround by them. Maybe it's kind of like when you get a new car, and the next day you look around and it seems like everyone's got a Toyota Matrix. But I see through Facebook that a high school friend, Mike Hubbert and his wife had a baby yesterday (well, his wife had it), and another high school friend Sue Simpson is 33 weeks pregnant. Our neighbour behind us has a newborn and three other women we know quite well in our complex have three young boys.

Now Beth and Mike have a baby and we are next. Joanne and I can't wait but I'm doing all I can to get Joanne to remember that just because she is term in five days, our due date is Oct. 25 and it is her first so the baby likely won't come early.

We just have to wait until he or she is ready. Can't wait to meet him or her.

Wow.

When herons attack

OK, "attack" is a touch inaccurate, but when they scare pregnant women it's pretty funny.

We were on Salt Spring ready to come home on Sunday and we arrived at the ferry a little early. (OK, it was because I thought the boat was at 3, but it was at 3:30 p.m.) So we went for a little wander down the road and Joanne went out on a little point for a sun-dappled pregnant-lady photo when right above her head a Great Blue Heron (we think) took off out of a cedar tree and made some loud noises of discontent at being disturbed by this human mainlander.

Damn mainlanders.

Baby time

I assembled a crib.

Our neighbour Beth's water broke today.

Joanne's baby has dropped.

Some acupuncture needles were placed.

A couple of dads-to-be share a Tuborg and freaked out a little.

Contractions happened. Some real. Some Braxton Hicks.

Tomorrow there may be another person in the world. Right here in our townhouse complex. But not in our home.

Soon enough.

Flame on

One of my torch run photos made it into yesterday's Vancouver Sun, page A3.

Frankly I thought it should have been the page 1 photo but I got beat out by biker gangs. That's beat OUT, not beat up.

I probably got one of the few photos of the lit torch because this was out on the east edge of town and no other media were around. Back in the 'Wack with the Province, CP, Reuters, et al, they never lit it up.

Eddie Vedder hates my cufflinks

I was a big fan of Pearl Jam in the early 1990s and frankly forgot they existed, but apparently they have just put out their ninth album.

I have just been informed, though, that if I am ever to interview Eddie Vedder (not likely) I should make sure I do not wear the cufflinks I wore on my wedding day (not that I would given the aforementioned unlikely circumstance).

I have vintage typewriter key cufflinks of a P and an H, which I love. Well, Vedder loves vintage typewriters too. In a recent Billboard Magazine story he explains the name of the band's new album, Backspacer, is an homage to typewriters. In fact, he likes them so much that he uses typewriters for lyric writing and personal correspondence and he gets very upset when he sees keys used in jewelry.

"For me it was like shark fin soup: 'You're killing typewriters for a bracelet!'" he said.

Come on. Shark fin soup! That's one melodramatic neo-Luddite.

I'll probably go buy Backspacer now.

Pathological Enthusiasm

I've renamed my blog and decided to pump it back up again with daily and weekly thoughts on the job as well as the imminent baby. Simply A Musing is also the name of my some-times column in the Times and I'll post some of them here as well.

Not yet accepted in the DSM-IV, the title of this posting is my diagnosis for many of the Vancouver Olympic 2010 torch run volunteers I witnessed today during a test run here in Chilliwack.

Sure, I like the Olympics. Notwithstanding all the other social issues overlooked and important services cut by the provincial government to pay for a 15-day party, I have always been a big fan of the games. But, wow, some of the keeners running alongside the Coke-sponsored truck were enthusiastic for this dress rehearsal to the point of, well, pathological. Especially because no one was paying any attention to what they were doing. I had one guy at Five Corners put his Canadian flag in his mouth, do a little dance as I aimed my camera at him. But there was no one else around. Just me. Creepy.

I guess the idea is to get themselves hyped up for the real thing on Feb. 7 when hopefully there will actually be people watching.

PJH