ZOO AND THE HOLDING OUT AND HOLDING OF HEROES.

M's first zoo trip last weekend. She had a grand time, other than slumbering through five-eighths of it. Coincidentally, we shared the same favourite animals: hippos, turtles, orangutans, baboons, tusk boars, fruit bats, and her mom, the latter whom she was fond of shrieking for in a voice that is reminiscent of a hoarse walrus dueting with Bonnie Tyler*. Odd though it may sound, it is music. I love her voice. Shrieking, crying, laughing, burping, and especially hiccuping.

She is so incredibly, hilariously fun.

*Fact: Bonnie Tyler is the singer behind the greatest sing-a-long song ever, Holding Out for a Hero (coincidentally, also the Greatest Song Ever). Every time I hear it regardless of where I am, I lurch for the nearest hairbrush, throw back the hair, and lip-synch like there's no tomorrow, except there is one because we're waiting for a hero.

*Note: there will be more zoo pictures. A priceless shot of mating turtles will be appearing soon. It's obvious once you see it that humans are not the only species who take pleasure in coupling rituals. The look on old Phillip's face...priceless (Phillip is the amorous shellback mounted atop his playmate).



Bonnie Tyler

Holding Out for a Hero

Footloose soundtrack

1984

Grandmama

I suspect their future conversations may involve plenty of coffeehouse dialogue concerning existential minutiae.

She seems so intelligent, yet frustrated at her inability to articulate what's rampaging through her little head.

Maggie Lu, that is.

Night Shift

One of the cliches I've heard about becoming a parent is that you learn how to use your time more efficiently. One of the few parenting cliches I agree with. I no longer even have the indulgence of gracefully settling in for an all-night editing session with a full pot of coffee and my Homer Simpson slippers, with the blissful knowledge that it will be a completely phone-free, uninterrupted session of productivity. NOW, because of Miss Maggie, this holy time is more likely to take place in increments of 20-40 minutes.

But you know what. It's cool. I am forced by necessity to be more efficient AND she's even been joining me down here occasionally, though she's not much help, and she gets distracted easily. See below.

(photo taken four minutes ago).

I Prefer E-sharp

Quietly celebrated M's 17-Day Birthday with a quiet ditty some of you may have illegally sung in restaurants. Little tune called Happy Birthday. Think she's starting to get annoyed with it. Which may have something to do with the fact that she's now heard it sixteen times over the course of 2+ weeks of post-womb living at exactly 12:46 pm. Although we were late by a minute today.

Banality be dammed: this has been such an unbelievably cool experience. Sleep loss and fetid diapers fly to the engorged short-term amnesia bin every time I catch her staring at me, unblinking, mouth perpetually in motion, yawning, searching for the magic milk button, fingers twitching like Charlie Parker two minutes into I Didn't Know What Time It Was. Just an unbelievably interesting, entertaining, vulnerable little being, similar to a person almost. A little person with the most bemused eyes I've seen since sub-teaching 7th grade and eliciting a similar response with every apparently lame witty anecdote I told up front.

Well, might as well learn early on that her Dad's a corny kinda dude and has no plans to head in another direction.

Grandpeppy is not unfond of Maggie. It's not settled whether it will be Grandpeppy or Granda. Think Jack Handey for the former, Irish for the latter. Talk about nonparallel analogies. Oh well. It's who we are?



Charlie Parker has one of my favorite remarks about music. Talking about his style:

I try to play clean and look for the pretty notes.

Love it.

Scandinavian Babe Corporation

Panera Bread Company. Becca ordered a smoothie. I got coffee, but hers was better so I tried to sneak slurps. Have a bit of a reputation for that. Maggie quietly slumbered through the outing, opting to wait for her prime play hours of 1-4 am to get social.

Have a suspicion these two will be engaged in quite the practical jokes on yours truly one of these days. Can't say I haven't asked for it.

Bring it.

Burt's Big Surprise

Friday night. 9:30 pm. Joseph, Becca, and Maggie wrapping up a quiet Friday evening, post-enchiladas, twelve minutes into Last of the Mohicans score. Doorbell rings.

Joseph grumpily shuffles over to answer. Opens. Shrieks. I mean, Yells (because men are supposed to yell, I vaguely recall). Shrieks something very loud that he probably should regret, particularly with M drooled across his arm. But no regrets. Time and a place, you know.

For The Joshua had arrived, unannounced, unexpected by anyone. A ghost in the freakin' night. An Alaskan bush ghost with a harem of tattoos, fertilized facial hair, and the biggest corny grin this side of Lloyd Christmas. Wasn't supposed to see his niece for another two months, but couldn't wait so took a 52-hour trip from the Great North to holiday with Burt. He calls her Burt. Which is cool. No one else does.

So they had a grand time. We all did. Uncle Joshie and Burt crammed in some serious bonding, although Burt's mother isn't quite convinced that she needs a tattoo before her first birthday.

One of the coolest surprises I've ever experienced. Almost as good as the time I got a BB gun for Christmas, even though mee mum hated guns. Still does.

Sasha, Josh's special friend, was a delightful surprise as well. Verdicts are coming in fast that Josh is a fortunate dude, this writer's verdict included.

Was so cool.

Note: her first video will be appearing soon. A chronicle of the first 11 days. Keep you posted.

Ernest Would Dig

I really hope Uncle Jonny teaches her how to do this someday.

On the celly to Uncle Jonny in Brasil.

Take Out

I have never seen a more lackadaisical diner than my daughter. Grunts, murmurs, hiccups, moans, air-sucking and frantic limb-waving when she's hungry. But mealtime rolls and two minutes later she's out. Zonked. Two steps from REM but won't give up her parking spot. Like taking a Lincoln Navigator to the pump on empty, sticking about a buck-fifty in, turning off the nozzle but leaving it connected. No one's going nowhere. But nothing's happening at the same time. Great analogy. 

Anyway. Try to slide her diapered body away from home base and the lungs kick in. Arms grasping for any part of Mum that will let her stay cherrypicked in the VIP zone. Hilarious. Unless you're Mum trying to get something else done. Kinda hard to carry around an eight-pound bundle in that specific situation, I would imagine.

Never imagined she'd have this much personality so early. Hilarious. Can't tell me she has no idea when she's just a little proud of herself. Gets this unwipeable smirk across her upturned face, looking so gleeful about pulling over another one on Dad. Another one being a freshly-defiled diaper 44 seconds after it was freshly and lovingly put on. Kid's got funny.

My parents say I cried a lot when I was wee. I don't remember, and their claims are a bit dubious. But just for the sake of conjecture let's say when she does get all worked up, red face, clenched fists, I can't get too irritated thinking that she may be just a little bit like her old Dad.

Looks like her hair's gonna be curly.

It Ain't the Chain Gang

This past week has just been spectacular.

She's draped across my chest. I'm hunting keys down like Captain Ahab with one finger. It's almost midnight. Arm's aching from eight pounds of uncompressed raw personality, snoozing for maybe 12 more little hand clock spins 'til instinct kicks in and says it's midnight snack time. Mouth's wide open, hand tucked under her chin, occasional grin as some fleeting neuron twitches her lips up. Chilling with Dad late in the Interpol-scored p.m.

Love it.

Guest Blog: Random Musings On Things I Didn't Expect When Magdelana Made Me An Uncle by Uncle Jeremy Long

1. I didn't expect her speech to be as minimal
as it is. She needs to work on her "R" sound.
It's pathetic.

2. Honestly, before she came I hadn't thought
about her being a drummer but as we've
bonded and grown together she has proven
to have quite the rhythm. Unfortunately
(for some) this rhythm has come from her
vocal chords. They just don't know her like I
do.

Three of Photographs of a Baby

New Assistant

Wasn't sure how I'd be able to get any work done once M came along.

My fears were groundless.

The Art of Spying on Mum

Introduced her to selected works from Thelonius Monk and Benny Goodman today. She seemed to really connect with the Monk, but kept hiccuping all the way through Benny's set.

Took a late evening siesta on the back deck, where she got to try out her new yellow sunglasses. Thought she'd really dig 'em (kind of a girly kiddy version of Elton John/Audrey shades). But she just kept hiccuping.

As many of you know, Spying is both one of my passions and one of my greatest skills. I have been extremely excited to begin training my daughter in this vital area. So I took her on a reconnaissance/training session this evening. Simple, relatively mundane, very little risk. Just to test the waters, see if she has any sort of inherent aptitude. Anyway, we maneuvered our way into position, at which point I held her up around the dresser to stealthily watch Mum brushing her teeth in the bathroom. She did well for the first 30 seconds. Held her silence well, didn't step on any dry tree branches, kept the cell phone off. Mum was completely clueless. Until thirty seconds in. Then, yes: more hiccuping.

Little disappointing, but she shows so much promise.

She has the greatest smile. Only seen it twice, but it's good. Trust me.

Very big fan of Uncle General Jeremy, who danced with her this evening.

Return of the King (and Queen and Baby Daughter)

Listened to Voodoo Child's ambient beats by the far-off Portland lights, dark, dancing, with her weak little left hand gripped on my thumb. Eyes wide open, staring at me.

Pretty cool.


























Uncles. Aunts. Hurry up.

Name

Ready?

Magdelana Deluca Long.

Spell it right.

That's it.

We will save Amélie for later...

Miss Untitled

We've decided to give Daughter a name. What name? Stay tuned. Ha.

DAUGHTER NOTES:

:Becca's mouth. My nose. Becca's hair colour. My ears. Becca's butt.

:Becca has become surprisingly enchanted with her. Last night, Daughter, in a complete violation of personal space boundaries, was nuzzling Becca's cheek, sucking at it like Veruca Salt working an Everlasting Gobstopper. And Becca LET her. It appears that Mum is actually a bit fond of the Toothead. Quite the duo.

:Not of major concern, but developmentally she's not enunciating her vowels clearly at all.

:Currently she is residing in my lap while I write. Her eyes occasionally wink scowlingly at me as my fingers salsa across the keyboard. Sometimes I think she's SPYING on me. Which fills me with JOY. She really, really likes me.

Pictures soon.

Finally.

Monday, July 09. 12:26 pm.
8 lbs 1 oz.
21.25 inches tall.
Untitled, still.

Her Mother is an Amazon. Seriously. Beat up, not quite ready to rock+roll, but doing fine. If our daughter ends up ever looking half as beautiful as her her mum does right now, she'll be very fortunate.

As promised, I will be posting a "What I've Learned" column regularly. Not quite yet.

I am an extremely slow diaper changer.

Guest Blog : Uncle General Jeremy

I am now an official uncle. Yes, call me Uncle General Jeremy. She was born about 44 minutes ago and I'm just waiting to see her. Her dad won't give any details as of yet so as you can see the suspense is building quite abruptly. Only do I wonder about her physical build though, we already have the mental part. Yes, we have bonded before, I would tell her stories of great adventures and she would knee her mom in the stomache (which was a form of telling me to continue). I love my niece already. Don't don't call her an "it" though, that bothers me. For instance "It's" a girl! The correct term would be "She's" a girl! Which also would make you seem like a complete airhead beings the moment you said "she" everyone knew she was a girl. So how about we just let people figure out her gender by her pink(ish) blue(ish) girl attire and durable, but not masculine yellow rubber boots. Alright? Thanks. Just protecting my niece.

Uncle General Jeremy

Guest Blog: On Her Way by Uncle Jeremy

I've hardly blinked an eye for the past 3 nights. Maybe even four-5-6-7. She was supposed to come on 7-7-7, the day "Transformers" came out, but for some odd reason decided to wait a couple days... because I told her to of course, but for some other reason, too. I also noticed I said "she", that's quite complicated. You see, we've received news that she could be a boy. Or a girl. It's not for sure yet, my dad always told me ultra sound was like global warming, a complete hoax. And I believe my dad. ALWAYS. So the reason I said "she" was because I'd rather call him a "she" if she turns out to be a "he" than call him an "it" if she turns out to be a boy. That last sentence has brought us to one conclusion (us meaning whoever reads this and me), he is not an it. So don't call her that alright?

RANDOM points to be made:

Josef and I have been working really hard on her room.

Jonny is in Brasil.

Josh is in Alaska.

Jamey is in Italy.

I am here, as close to the delivery room as I can, which just so coincidentally happens to fall in the place of the TV room. Who do you think is gonna be her favorite uncle?

Leanna is in California

Lanessa is at Big Lake.

It's a toss up...?

This is Uncle General Jeremy from as close to the delivery room I can get. Until next time... I'm out.

"What Josef?! She's.. 's--wha..??" I gotta jet.. oh my goodness, she's comin guys...

Finally?

2.41 am. Still at home, but looks like we'll be heading to the hospital shortly. And by shortly I mean less than 15 minutes.

Wow.


UPDATE:

Next phase of life, here we are!

Daughter Tardiness, pt. 05: One Week Late

Nothing.

Very perturbing.

I have been talking to my Daughter, via her Mother's belly, for many months. Many of my monologues have been filled with cliches, such as "I can't wait to see you" and "I love you so much."

Other chats have had important bits of information, such as "no need to ever try mushrooms, you'll hate 'em," "don't get walked on by anybody no matter how old you are," and "Grandaddy really IS the experimental American Radiohead, by way of 1972 Neil Young."

I have also told her a list of qualities that are important to develop. Loyalty, respect for everyone, willingness to laugh at anything your dad says is funny, etc. Among the most important of these qualities is Independence. She has obviously not understood the context I said this in. What I meant was, Independence WITHIN the boundaries I have set for her. So when people tell me, smirking, chuckling, that she is "Independent" for deciding to show up on her own time, I say, NO, that is NOT Independence. That is plain Stubborn Obstinance. NOT one of the Eleven Most Important Attributes to Develop.

One week overdue now. Unthoughtful Pill.

ALSO: J.M. Long has a new (demo) song up on MySpace. Please Come Home. I'm going to post it here until I get in trouble with him, which may be soon. Pretty freakin' amazed where he's going with music. I kinda see him as being at the same crossroads with Music as I once was with Prison Ball. Tons, just TONS of potential. He might be unleashing it a little more fruitfully.

ALSO: Jonny has finally posted again. Go read it. Hilarious.

Bikinis, Daughter, and Auntie

Daughter will not be going swimsuit shopping with Aunt Leanna between the ages of 14-18.

Joshua

Josh is the man.

Read the whole article at http://www.whillsgroup.com/blog/1_services_insider.cfm

Tale of a Toad

Download Tale of a Toad. A story of ethics by Joseph Long.

I ran across this old school project and decided to make it available for a short while. If there are any copyright-holders with a problem, it will be taken down immediately.

Long Live Toad. Enjoy.

Daughter Tardiness, pt. 04

Strong feeling about today. Strong feeling.
Also: sinking feeling about tomorrow. Months ago, Jeremy predicted she would arrive on 7-7-07. Which is tomorrow.

If she actually IS born tomorrow, I will be hearing about it for decades. Decades. I visualize Uncle Jeremy, EVERY birthday, reminding her of how he outguessed her Dad. Can't have that.

This is important: any day EXCEPT 7-7-07. Not tomorrow. Please.

Pink, Tickled

For Allyson.

Daughter Tardiness, pt. 03

Fireworks of the traditional kind. That's it. Still nothing.

It's perhaps not a tragedy that I've had a few extra days to prepare for the entrance of my daughter. It's given me time to formulate some plans for the upcoming year.



Specifically:

I will be launching a blog series about "Fathering the First Year: How to Do It Almost Perfectly."

Notice I didn't say "Completely Perfectly." I will probably make mistakes.

Somewhere between four and six, I suspect. But by Day 366, expecting fathers should be able to look over my notes, recommendations, lists, and tirades and weather their own Year 01 with great aplomb.

Yes, I did just use the word "aplomb." It's archaic. But so is Neil Diamond. And "Forever in Blue Jeans" will still be classically archaic in 2048, and quite possibly still be the Greatest Song Ever. And Daughter and I will still be listening to it together. And Mum.

NOTE: That's me and my nephew Torsten at Burgerville. Not my daughter.

NOTE 02: Their Mocha Blast milkshakes are refreshingly healthy. Torsten attempted to steal mine, but I intervened at the last second.

FACT: children should not heavily drink coffee before the age of Three.

Daughter Book, Written by Lanessa

Early heads-up:

Lanessa has been writing letters to her Niece for the past five months. Hilarious. Every entry includes a section she's entitled "Advice for the Day."

I will be editing and perhaps co-illustrating a coffee table-style book revolving around these letters and advice. Specifically about the Aunt/Niece relationship. Will be four-color printed, published, and available for reasonable purchase sometime in the next few months.

Daughter Tardiness, pt. 02

Still no sign.

Becca's going to give waterbirth a try. That means she'll deliver the baby in a tub. Of water. I will be in there as well, assisting, bringing her bubbles, toys, pictures of Johnny Depp, or anything else that will help her focus on things other than physical trauma.

Amidst this joyous anticipation, there's one small bit that's been troubling me. Becca was informed that she had the option of A) being nude for delivery or B) wearing minimal clothing, such as a sports bra. I, however, was specifically told that I do NOT have the option of assisting her in the naked. I will be forced to wear shorts, which I find highly racist. Apparently they're concerned that it could be "distracting" to hospital staff. Not like I was planning on jogging back and forth between the vending machines, not frequently anyway.

No matter how much we flatter ourselves for our progression as a society, there are times when I tremble with fear at the troglodytic peons forcing their will upon the people.

This would NEVER happen in Bulgaria.

__

I do have a strong feeling she's coming tonight.

I reluctantly point out that I've had similarly strong feeling for the past four nights. I am not gaining much respect on the Baby Seer front. But seriously, probably tonight. I can feel it.

Gotta go try and sew some Saran wrap board shorts. Keep you posted.

Daughter Tardiness

Two days overdue. I have very patiently informed her this would be a terrific, very convenient weekend for her to arrive. But she's ignoring me. We'll have to work on the whole 'disobeying dad' thing.

She will have have a name other than "Daughter," probably. But we're not releasing it until she decides to show her face and we know for sure whether or not it works.

Uncle Matthew is still pushing hard for "Genghisina." Out of respect for him it is being carefully considered. He is also not opposed to "Brunhilde."

Uncle General Jeremy believes we could still have a boy. Which would be interesting, considering the closet full of dresses and knee-high coloured tights we've accumulated.

Thank you to those of you who have been inquiring about her and who care. To those who have not, and who do not care, well, fine. We won't let our Daughter talk to you. Ever.

Auntie Leanna has just stated that she is actually behind the "might still be a boy" idea.

Aunt Abby would like to state that she does not like to convey information via Bulletins, but that she is very excited to talk to Daughter in person. I've explained to her that babies don't just come out talking and that it will take at least 2-3 weeks until Daughter is able to articulately carry on a conversation.

Aunt Lanessa says hi to everyone and has been faithfully journaling and writing advice to her Niece, which will assembled and published in the next few months. Very, very poignant, witty, and hilarious. Just an early heads-up.

Uncle Jonny is traversing around Brazil. Although he has felt very guilty about missing his Niece's arrival, he wants everyone to know he is wearing an orange Speedo everywhere - EVERYWHERE - in honor of her imminent entrance. It's a very logical homage.

Thanks.

Joseph