To answer your question, yes the mom must be pretty good looking.

OK, I'm going to link you to a picture. But first I'm going to need you to sit down, and you may want to have a lemon to suck on or pin to poke yourself with, to counteract the deadly onslaught of "aawwww". Remember that Monty Python bit about about the funniest joke in the world, where the joke was used to defeat enemy armies? The following picture should be against the Geneva Convention.
Consider yourselves duly warned.

baby crap

From the Offsprung family of parent blogs, Meconium is a favorite of mine. Not only is that a very funny name for a blog, (for the uninitiated I will only say "look it up") it tells me about all the silly junk I can feel smug about not spending money on.
It's a cliche that becoming a parent rearranges your priorities, and things that may have seemed important once now, uh, don't. One of those things being high concept design.
Just gimme stuff that works, please.

like that one college buddy everybody had

You know they're your kid when...
...they shit in the palm of your hand and you think it's hilarious.


No, this kind of foxworthiness just won't do.

bear with me

Posting will resume once I relocate my smart-alecky tone.

Après moi, le déluge

hallelujah! (shouted the atheist)

Sorry to have kept you in suspense:

Oona Sylvia Paige Grizzly was born Thursday May 17 at 10:34 PM.
6 pounds 3 ounces, 20 inches long (or tall if you point her up).

Grizzly Mom and Dad are ex -hausted and -static, and baby is great and charming the pants off everyone, and making great progress in the tit-sucking department.

Quick little anecdote:

I'm standing in the hallway at the hospital chatting with my father, and one of the hospital staff who is nearby says "are you the dad?" and I point at my father and say "He is".

Blank stare from hospital employee.

Me: "Oh, wait, you mean- I thought you meant MY- yeah, yes- I'm the dad!"
maybe you had to be there.

Pics soon, depending on the practicality of bloggery amidst chaos.

while-u-wait

Yes, while we're all waiting, have an hors douvre and let's see the lil' gal in action in utero:

Yes, I think she's ready for her close-up, Mr. Demille.

probably not the hardest part

But the waiting, she is difficult, yes?

(the next post will most likely be written by a Dad)

Yo, Griz!

What are you laughing about over there?


Thanks, G!

a fungus among us

One of my siblings informed me yesterday that it was Buddhist Sibling Appreciation Day. Since none of my siblings are Buddhist (to my knowledge), I celebrated by focusing my mind on the cessation of desire.
Since I know that the same sibling has discovered this blog, I will return the favor and remind her that May is Fungal Infection Awareness Month. I, for one, pledge to do my part in making everyone aware of fungal infections.
I was hoping to link to something I saw on the internets a long time ago where some guy had chronicled an experiment where he intentionally grew a foot fungus. If this sounds familiar to anyone out there and you have a link, let me know. It had me vomiting through the laughter.

I contain multitudes

An email I just got from Harry Reid (old gambling buddy) begins:

Dear Thomas,

I want to thank the more than 36,000 of you...

He really ought to follow that with the old Steve Martin bit:
thank you thank you thank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank youthank you thank you...

R.I.Peeper

Tom Poston is dead.
Shed not a tear, however, as he lived a long life and got to sleep with one of my childhood crushes, Suzanne Pleshette.
Emily Hartley was everything I wanted in a woman: wit, intelligence, pantsuits...
Of course, she was no Leather Tuscadero.
Still,
woo-hoo!
Oh right, Tom Poston. Uh, may the road rise to meet you, blah blah blah.

Ah, Emily...