ation
I'm under-appreciated. I'm not terribly competent in regard to child care tasks. No one here really think my efforts are in any way useful. They don't even care about me.
And so, because I'm only in the way anyway, they're sending me away . , , to Catalina, as in Santa Cantalina, the little island approximately twenty-six miles away from its nearest point on the Pacifici coast. I'll be gone for three days and three nights. My brother, my on-again/off-again relationship partener Jared, the second-year resident tim, my cusin Josh, Jared's cousin Alyssa, my friend meredith from pre-college days, my Taiwanese-American med school friend Caroline, Kal Penn-look-alike, Raoul, and Cool Guy and a few others from med school, and Josh's friend Amy are coming as well. Perhaps there's someone else I'm forgetting. If so, I'll tell you about it later.
We're scheduled to board a chartered boat that will depart at roughly 7:05 a.m. Depending up the size of the boat,the degree of roughness of the waters, the punctuality of everyone involved in the trip, how much of a hurry the captain (which seems a bit grandiose a title for a person who guides a likely somewhat unimpressive watercraft across a tiny stretch of the Pacific and back) is in, and other factors of which I may not have thought, we'll reach the shores at Avalon somewhere between 9:30 and 10:30.
Scott just woke me up and told me to pack. I'm a fast packer. Io'm packed, dressed, and ready to go, with nothing to do for the next twenty minutes or so until we leave the house. The babies are still sleeping, or I could play with them or play the piano. When it was just Andrew, I played the piano while he was asleep. Right now, with two babies in the picture, I don't wish to do anything to upset the equilibrium around here. The new kid will eventually need to learn to deal with the flow as it goes in this house, in which basic environmental noises include someone pounding on a Steinway or screeching on a violin, but they're giving the baby at least until somewhere around the date on which she should have been born to adapt. after that, I suspect she's fair game for whatever chaos they produce. It's not an act of kindness on their part; they just don't want to listen to her cry any more than they must.
She is crying less in the past two days. It just seems to take preemies a little longer to adjust to life ex utero, and they compensate by crying. Who can blame them?
In any event, we have no agenda for our time on the island. It's a small island without an over-abundance of available recreational opportunities; three days is probably the perfect amount of time for us to spend there. the only thing I will do for certain is parasail. Parasailing is to me the closest thing to heaven I can conceptualize. (Perhaps I'll re-sequence my activities in relation to their paradisiacal properties once I've experienced sex; then again, maybe I won't. Time alone will tell. [i made a rather odd miscue in typing that last sentence. It originally read as typed, "Tim alone will tell." I can say with total honesty that the error was purely typograhical and not Freudian in nature, but still I'm glad I caught it before I published. Tim doesn't read this blog, but his sister does. She would have had a field day with the unedited version of the sentence.] )
For the next three days and nights, diapers, baby food, and other matters related to Irish twins well under a year old belong to someone else. I'm on holiday!
Hasta la visata. Carpe diem. Gung hay fat choi, or however you spell it.
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| my destination |
I'm under-appreciated. I'm not terribly competent in regard to child care tasks. No one here really think my efforts are in any way useful. They don't even care about me.
And so, because I'm only in the way anyway, they're sending me away . , , to Catalina, as in Santa Cantalina, the little island approximately twenty-six miles away from its nearest point on the Pacifici coast. I'll be gone for three days and three nights. My brother, my on-again/off-again relationship partener Jared, the second-year resident tim, my cusin Josh, Jared's cousin Alyssa, my friend meredith from pre-college days, my Taiwanese-American med school friend Caroline, Kal Penn-look-alike, Raoul, and Cool Guy and a few others from med school, and Josh's friend Amy are coming as well. Perhaps there's someone else I'm forgetting. If so, I'll tell you about it later.
We're scheduled to board a chartered boat that will depart at roughly 7:05 a.m. Depending up the size of the boat,the degree of roughness of the waters, the punctuality of everyone involved in the trip, how much of a hurry the captain (which seems a bit grandiose a title for a person who guides a likely somewhat unimpressive watercraft across a tiny stretch of the Pacific and back) is in, and other factors of which I may not have thought, we'll reach the shores at Avalon somewhere between 9:30 and 10:30.
Scott just woke me up and told me to pack. I'm a fast packer. Io'm packed, dressed, and ready to go, with nothing to do for the next twenty minutes or so until we leave the house. The babies are still sleeping, or I could play with them or play the piano. When it was just Andrew, I played the piano while he was asleep. Right now, with two babies in the picture, I don't wish to do anything to upset the equilibrium around here. The new kid will eventually need to learn to deal with the flow as it goes in this house, in which basic environmental noises include someone pounding on a Steinway or screeching on a violin, but they're giving the baby at least until somewhere around the date on which she should have been born to adapt. after that, I suspect she's fair game for whatever chaos they produce. It's not an act of kindness on their part; they just don't want to listen to her cry any more than they must.
She is crying less in the past two days. It just seems to take preemies a little longer to adjust to life ex utero, and they compensate by crying. Who can blame them?
In any event, we have no agenda for our time on the island. It's a small island without an over-abundance of available recreational opportunities; three days is probably the perfect amount of time for us to spend there. the only thing I will do for certain is parasail. Parasailing is to me the closest thing to heaven I can conceptualize. (Perhaps I'll re-sequence my activities in relation to their paradisiacal properties once I've experienced sex; then again, maybe I won't. Time alone will tell. [i made a rather odd miscue in typing that last sentence. It originally read as typed, "Tim alone will tell." I can say with total honesty that the error was purely typograhical and not Freudian in nature, but still I'm glad I caught it before I published. Tim doesn't read this blog, but his sister does. She would have had a field day with the unedited version of the sentence.] )
For the next three days and nights, diapers, baby food, and other matters related to Irish twins well under a year old belong to someone else. I'm on holiday!
Hasta la visata. Carpe diem. Gung hay fat choi, or however you spell it.
Sounds like a lovely trip! Enjoy! Someday, I'd like to see Catalina myself.
ReplyDeleteEnjoy your holiday! I love flying in my dreams so it sounds like you will be flying for real (parasailing), almost. From what I have seen, women can have orgasms that are stronger than what men have.
ReplyDeleteIn Positive Psychology they found that the most enjoyable experience that a human can have is the flow experience. A psychologist classified the above after the following happened. He woke up in the morning and started looking at crystals under a microscope. After a couple of hours he was having trouble seeing the crystals.
So he checked to see what was wrong and he saw that it was getting dark outside. The sunlight from the window was allowing the microscope to work. So what seemed like a couple of hours was in fact an entire day had passed. Here is what the director of Positive Psychology says about the flow experience:
"When does time stop for you? When do you find yourself doing exactly what you want to be doing, and never wanting it to end? Is it painting, or making love, or playing volleyball, or talking before a group, or rock climbing, or listening sympathetically to someone else's troubles?"