It's the truth, I swear

Smiles all around

J has been smiling like crazy lately.

Last night, each time I put him into the crib, he looked up at me with a huge smile. I usually check to see if he wants the pacifier, but I couldn't bring myself to cover that smile. Given the choice of seeing J's smile or Elmo's, there really isn't any contest. Besides, I hate Elmo.

He was making all kinds of noises this morning, cooing and grunting from 5:30 on. He was smiling like a madman. I looked over him at one point and a combination of a smile, coo, and exhale turned into a little laugh.

We're going to have so much fun with this kid.

Passion

While reading Joe's recent entry, I think I had a minor revelation.

I have never been truly passionate about anything.

I have been amazed and excited by things. I have been interested in things. I have looked forward to things. I have appreciated things, liked things, loved things, wanted to experience more of some things, but I can't remember feeling really passionate about any particular thing.

There were the guitar lessons, the photography classes, the boxes of baseball cards, the hundreds of CDs, the grad school applications, the chess games, the web design, and the late nights at work, all of them indicating a desire to find something I could really get behind.

If I were more passionate about something, I believe I could make it work for me. I could dedicate my life to that thing, trying to perfect it, while knowing that it could never be perfected. I could work on it all day, think about it in the evenings, and dream about it at night. I know people who have that kind of passion. They know what they need to do and they're constantly trying to figure out how to do it.

I have only a passion for procrastination and a passion for finding my passion. And I'm passionate about my family, of course.

This passion for procrastination helps me in my quest for a true passion, but it also hinders me. Procrastination allows me the time to search for my true passion, but it clouds my judgment. The task I use to procrastinate always seems more exciting than the task I am putting off. But is it really more interesting? It's more like a passion of the day. I'm really just projecting passion onto it.

I believe that when you are passionate about something, you don't even find the need to procrastinate. You are dedicated to achieving your goal, and want to spend your time doing so. I'm not saying that you won't take a break every once in a while (everyone needs a break), I'm just saying that you won't get bored while exploring your passion.

If you are passionate, I applaud and envy you. If and when I find my passion, or realize that I already have it, I'll be sure to let you know.

Who got the truth?

A few weeks ago, Kate sent me a link to "things I know are true."

I responded by saying something exactly like, "If this gets huge, I'm going to be pissed."

My original idea for "It's the truth, I swear," was for anyone to be able to post a truth. I thought it was a great idea, though perhaps I made a few errors in the execution. When I realized it wasn't working out so well, I hijacked the page for my own weblog. And here we are.

In any case, I find happiness in the fact that the last truth posted to the copycat page was entered three weeks ago, while my page is thriving, that's right... thriving with my own banter and comments from my wife. It also allows me to conclude that nobody cares about the truth anymore. It's not about what's true and what's not true. It's all about American Idol.

MP3

I've been using the MP3 player (a very generous gift from Diane and Eddie) to entertain myself at work while I tediously write code and solve the world's problems. I have a problem with the way I've organized the music. I have done it alphabetically, which doesn't work so well because when I'm in the mood for some Beastie Boys, I have to float past Belle & Sebastian, Billy Bragg, and Ani DiFranco. Genre would probably be a more appropriate organization tool. My only fear is what I'll find out about my music tastes.

Can I also say that I listen to Justified more often than I care to admit.

Turning obsessive-compulsive

Hand-washing takes on a whole new perspective when you know that your finger might end up in your seven-week-old son's mouth.

There are germs everywhere!

I just went to the bathroom. Now I'm washing my hands. With soap. Washing the soap off with the water. Turning the water off. Wait. That water faucet handle looks pretty dirty. I should clean that off before I touch it. With soap. That's better. Washing my hands again. With soap. Shutting off the water using the freshly cleaned handle. Drying my hands. Aha! Door handle. That's tricky. I'll keep a layer between it and me. I'll open it with the slightly damp paper towel in my hand. Then I'll toss the paper towel into the trash. I missed, of course. Pick it up. Get a new paper towel. Wait a second; did my finger just brush against the floor when I picked up that other paper towel? I better wash my hands just in case. Shut off the water. Dry my hands. Use the paper towel to open the door. Toss the paper towel. Made it in the trash. Now what about the light switch? Can't wash it; risk of electrocution. Need another paper towel.

Now I need to figure out how to type without touching my keyboard.

Latest lesson from J

If I had know all I had to do was scream to get a boob in my mouth, I would have been much happier in high school.

Sad, but true

Marc: Last night was great.
Kate: Yeah, that was wonderful.

What are we talking about?
J skipping his 3 AM feeding, giving us a few hours of continuous sleep.

Best Mother's Day Ever

For Kate's first Mother's Day weekend, we had both of our families visiting us. It was, quite possibly, the best Mother's Day I've ever experienced.

We hosted Sunday brunch. Kate and I made a huge fruit salad, a cinnamon and cream cheese strata, and a bacon and cheese quiche. My mom helped out by bringing a broccoli and cheese quiche (and by cutting up some of the fruit for the fruit salad). Everything was so delicious.

Sure, my brother wasn't there (he's in Hawaii for a wedding), and my sister drove back to college late Saturday night for some unknown reason. Although they (and all of our other family) were missed, the day was a huge success. We put the leaves in the table. We showcased eight of our twelve place settings. We passed the baby around. There was laughing. There was intriguing conversation. It was just a really great, perfect day.

Kate, Happy First Mother's Day!

To All the Socks I've Loved Before

I used to have a special place where I would store my "socks without partners." Oh where did I lose you dear light blue argyle? This morning, I came to grips with the losses. The last remaining glimmer of hope slipped through my fingertips as I tossed the single socks into the trash.

Color Socks

White Socks