Apparel

Warm congrats to my cousin, Matthew, and his wife, Megan, on the birth of their second daughter.

Most of my paternal grandparents’ grandchildren began having children rather late in life. So, although perhaps it shouldn’t surprise me, it always does – pleasantly – when another little niece, nephew, or once-removed first cousin comes along.

What a world to come into, though.

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Then again, things arguably were worse in Genesis-time. I have a couple of colorful t-shirts with the caption, “Need an Ark? I Noah Guy.” There’s a picture of the ark on the shirts. (Alas, I can’t find the picture online – just other shirts with the same caption but different artwork.) I obtained these shirts after a children’s program at my church. They were spares.

I wear them around because I’m edgy like that. And because they fit.

No one ever has commented on them – the occasional raised eyebrow is as far as things have gone – until today, when I wore an ark shirt to the to the Salvation Army Kroc Center. (The boys have been taking swim lessons there.)

My goodness, how many laudatory remarks I got.

Did you go to the Ark Encounter?, one man asked.

My people.

Now what I need is a Coach Cignetti shirt to wear to the Kroc.

A couple of field trips

It’s been a colicky few days for Samuel. Now, Karin & I get excited whenever he burps.

Laundry has piled up. Fortunately, there are excellent new washing and drying machines in our building. We put about fifty percent more laundry into each load than we used to.

That qualifies as news.

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I’ve been trying much of the day to read the last thirty-five pages of Ross Macdonald’s The Way Some People Die, to no avail. It isn’t the book’s fault, either.

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My cousin Matthew visited from Atlanta with Megan, his intended. Yesterday, Karin & I took Samuel to an event at Matthew’s parents’ house called “Muffins with Megan.” I’m afraid Samuel stole the limelight too long. Everyone noticed how well-nourished he is. No one noticed his colic. He slept peacefully. Very shrewd.

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He also slept peacefully on Friday, when, at last sufficiently weighty, he was secured to his mother with a Boppy ComfyFit Baby Carrier and transported around the shopping mall. At Barnes & Noble, I found an omnibus of novels by Margaret Millar, the wife of Kenneth Millar (“Ross Macdonald” was his pseudonym).

The volume had some good blurbs:

“Very original.” – Agatha Christie

“Stunningly original.” – Val McDermid

“She has few peers, and no superior in the art of bamboozlement.” – Julian Symons

And my favorite:

“I long ago changed my writing name to Ross Macdonald for obvious reasons.” – Kenneth Millar