Willow went on her first real outing today. Jen and I took her to Hidden Villa. The temperature hovered around 80 degrees and we could smell the blossoming plant life all around us. The creek rushed and burbled down through the farm and away towards the bay. Quail and Robins played. Newts floated serenely in the pond (all except the one I briefly caught, who acted affronted and flopped pointedly back into the water). Banana slugs, who have to be the least camouflaged creatures on earth, lurked off to the side of the trail. Willow slept curled up in Jen's sling, and everybody who passed us remarked on how small she was. A couple walking the other way, with a two week old son, stopped and chatted for a moment. It's funny to think that Willow, who will be five weeks old tomorrow, should actually be about a month younger than this little baby, but due to circumstances beyond our control, is older. We got some good pictures (hopefully) of her in the natural light up on the hillside. On the way back to the van we stopped to look at the new baby lambs.

Tonight, the customer who likes his paper in the bush admitted to hitting the brandy and offered me a Pepsi. I politely declined, as I had a Thai iced tea in the car. Much better than Pepsi.

cds I listened to while drinking Thai iced tea: The Moon Lay Hidden Beneath A Cloud "The Smell of Blood but Victory", The Moonlighters "Dreamland", Mourning Cloak "Beyond", Sadness "Evangelion", and Psi Vojaci "Narod Psich Vojaku"

now: Popol Vuh "In the Gardens of Pharao/Aguirre"

Yet another work week grinds to a close, with no information on what my pay is going to be reduced to. I did find out where the offices/drop site is moving to though. Were moving several doors down, into a smaller space - all in an attempt to cut costs. If I was smart, I'd be using this time to update my resume.
Tomorrow I have to get brakes for my car - something I do every two or three months. That is one more drawback of my current profession. It chews up cars and spits them out. I don't even know how many miles I've driven mine - the odometer (along with the speedometer) obstinately refuses to budge. Maybe I'll get that fixed tomorrow too. Maybe I'll see if they can figure out why the *check engine* light is on. Maybe I'll finally get somebody to disable the airbag light - although after three years I've managed to totally tune it out.

Willow has grown three inches in a month. Beat that.

I saw a small owl tonight, but it ignored me.

I'm going to go read for awhile now.

cds I listened to while being ignored by owls: Nurse With Wound "Spiral Insana", Roy Harper "Valentine", Sadness "Danteferno", The Moon Lay Hidden Beneath A Cloud "Were You of Silver, Were You of Gold", Deutsch Nepal/TMLHBAC "A Night In Fear", Nurse With Wound/Stereolab "Crumb Duck", and Deutsch Nepal "Comprendido!...Time Stop!"

The newspapers were three hours late tonight. Something up at the printing plant must have, in the words of Nathan, "busted off and disappeared."

cds I listened to while waiting for papers: Uli Jon Roth "Hendrix Happening" and "Transcendental Sky Guitar", The Moon Lay Hidden Beneath A Cloud "A New Soldier Follows the Path of a New King" and "Rest on Your Arms Reversed", Calexico "Aerocalexico", and Sadness "Ames de Marbre"

I've been delivering the Wall St. Journal at night since 1988. How's that for an admission? This is both a blessing and a curse. When I move on, which I will soon be doing, potential employers will no doubt be impressed that I've had the same job for fifteen years. This shows that I am dependable and loyal. Potential employers, after they are done being impressed by my non-flakiness, will notice that, yes... I have been a paperboy for a decade and a half. That just doesn't sound good, does it?
It has been a comfortable job and it pays well. It leaves my days and weekends free (the Journal only publishes five days a week). The only problem is that the mortally wounded economy has finally started to take its toll on the jobs that service the swiftly disappearing high-tech firms. Subscriptions are down. The company I work for is not making money. They're cutting our pay. I'm not sure how much the pay cuts are going to be, but I should know by the end of the week. This obviously makes the job less attractive. Up until now, the healthy paycheck helped make up for the stigma of the job description. Up until now.
Tonight, I had an interesting exchange with a customer:
CUSTOMER: (as I hand him his paper over the fence) "Is it convenient for you to deliver the paper like this?"
ME: "It doesn't matter to me. Where would you like it?"
CUSTOMER: (indicating bush) "Throwing it in this bush would be fine."
Now, why can't I have more customers like this?

cds I listened to while wishing I could throw all of the papers into the shrubbery: Roy Montgomery "And Now the Rain Sounds Like Life is Falling Down Through It", Tarantula Hawk "Live at KFJC 07/15/01", The Moon Lay Hidden Beneath A Cloud "s/t" and "Amara Tanta Tyri", Uli Jon Roth/Electric Sun "Earthquake", "Firewind", and "Beyond the Astral Skies", and Mirror "Eye of the Storm"

Later today, Willow will be exactly a month old. Her face is getting chubbier and she is awake/alert more often now. She weighs 5 lbs, 2 ounces. It is getting hard to remember what life was like before she came along. It seems like she has always been here.

I have to get up early to go to Hidden Villa, so I'll stop here.

cds I listened to while traveling thither and yon: Mogwai "EP + 2", Ragnarok (UK) "Domgeorn", Jocelyn Montgomery with David Lynch "Lux Vivens (Living Light) - the Music of Hildegard Von Bingen", and Rainbow "Live in Europe" (... oh please save us from extended guitar and drum solos...)

The van is still filled with detritus left over from this weekend's Irr.App.(ext.) performance. I suppose I shall clean it out tomorrow. The show, which was held at the Temescal Arts Center in Oakland, went even better than we expected it to. People actually showed up and payed money to see the show. The various things that had gone wrong during rehearsals had all been ironed out by the time we did the performance in front of the audience. We had made some last minute changes that improved things too. The scorpions behaved wonderfully as I persuaded them to walk over the microphone. R. danced around in the darkness beyond the table with the glowing scorpions while G. projected a film onto his white coat. M. tied up the audience and gave them gifts. R. gave the audience sandwiches. All of the various cords, bulbs, and instruments worked as they were supposed to, although I managed to crack my nose flute in my enthusiasm.
There were a lot of familiar faces in the audience. There was even a guy I hadn't seen in nearly fifteen years. The two Dans were there. The first Dan is the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off of his back. The second Dan (who, as G. put it, could probably fit inside the first Dan) is the kind of guy who would dribble sauce on the shirt given to you by the first Dan, and then throw it away before you discovered it had been soiled so he wouldn't get blamed for it. It's hard to believe that they share a name.
After the show, after the applause and the chatter had died down, we were treated to a picnic by Dawn McCarthy, who is always thinking up that kind of thing. If anybody reading this is interested in further details, follow the link to the OAC site where, at some point, photos and/or sound samples may appear.

cds I listened to while doing what I do: Mediaeval Baebes "Undrentide", Nurse With Wound "Who Can I Turn to Stereo", Sleepytime Gorilla Museum at the Bottom of the Hill, 2/23/01, Mirror "Nights", and Tarantula Hawk "Desert Solitaire"

Here it is nearly 4 in the morning and only Lexy and The Dickens are asleep. Nathan is awake because he had a bad dream about being kidnapped, Jen is awake because Willow is awake, Willow is awake because she's a baby and babies do that, and I'm awake because I'm always awake at this time. Oh yeah, and a cricket is awake - I think it's the one who lives amongst the towels.
I was awake to early this morning because the vent people came to vacuum out our heating vents. It really makes a difference. There must have been a hell of a lot of dust in there because, as Jen pointed out, they now blow about five times as hard. Oh yeah, and while I was awake listening to the people vacuum out our vents, The Dickens wandered in and blew a train whistle at me and finished her little concert by throwing something at my head. She's so cute. I wish I didn't need to sleep - it would make things so much simpler. ... but I do, so that's it for now.

cds I listened to while yawning: Pyogenesis "Waves of Erostasia", Miranda Sex Garden "Fairytales of Slavery", "Carnival of Souls", and "Tonight/Sex Garden", Ragnarok (UK) "To Mend the Oaken Heart", Rage & Symphonic Orchestra Prague "Lingua Mortis", Winfred E. Eye "s/t" and "The Day I Lost My Sea Legs", and Mediaeval Baebes "Salva Nos"

So, we're at war. Bombs and missiles are ending lives. Each one of these deaths is a knife twisted into the soul of a loved one. The wound festers and gives birth to a bright new hate which is aimed right back at the country that gave birth to the people who dropped the bombs and fired the missiles in the first place. And this is supposed to solve what problem? This is supposed to prove what? Why do I even have to remind people that wars don't solve problems? They only exacerbate them.
Here's a scenario I'd like to see: George Bush and Saddam Hussein both tried for crimes against humanity, and through a clerical error ending up as cellmates. Justice doesn't get more poetic than this.

On a related topic, I still have to stop at the little guard booth every night before entering the property occupied by a large, unnamed weapons manufacturer. They've gotten used to seeing me, and all of them now just wave me on through. All except one. This one guy, even though he has seen me many times, still insists on seeing my driver's licence. Is he really that stupid? Is he so afraid to show any personal initiative or individual thought that he wouldn't dream of saying to himself, "that's the same delivery guy who drives through here every night, so I'll just let him through without hassling him." ??? Does he see different things on my driver's licence every time he looks at it?
Tonight I made an exasperated face at him and he got defensive and told me not to give him any crap. That made me mad, so I gave him crap. Then I felt a little better.

And I saw one of those big, safe S.U.V.s the other day - completely upside down. I didn't look like any other cars were involved in the accident either. When the people inside recover from their injuries (assuming the accident wasn't fatal) I hope they go purchase a more sensible vehicle.

cds I listened to on the first day of war: Primordial "Spirit the Earth Aflame" and "The Burning Season", Miranda Sex Garden "Madra" and "Suspiria", Tattle Tale "Sew True", Ray's Vast Basement "On the Banks of the Time", Storm and Her Dirty Mouth "s/t", Kap "Feed Me", and The Katharine Chase Band "The Truth"

For some reason I couldn't get online in the middle of the night, so I am forced to blog under the rays of the sun. Last night the moon was full, as if it had consumed to much. It creaked and groaned across the sky and lit my way quite nicely.

The Dickens has decided that she likes sitting on top of my head. The only problem is that when I try to put her down she screams. I finally got her to redirect her attention to something else, but it didn't last too long. She pointed to the top of my head and said, "ride". After back in place, she politely thanked me.
Willow seems to like sleeping strapped in on top of the changing table. It is about the same size as the little bed she slept in at the hospital. Maybe she feels safe that way. She is nearly lost in her crib. It would be like an adult trying to go to sleep in a room the size of a backyard.

cds I listened to while hoping the moon wouldn't throw up on me: Wretched "Lotta Per Vivere", Miranda Sex Garden "Sunshine", "Play", and "Peep Show", Zygote "A Wind of Knives", Antony and Current 93 "live at St. Olave's" (I was in the audience, but was so tired that I thought I saw a ghost. Maybe I really did...), Praying Mantis "Live at Last", and Better Dead than Read - compilation

Okay, let's see if things work the way they're supposed to tonight. If you're reading this, that means they have.

We're slowly adjusting to living in a house with four children. Willow is at her most content when she is in somebody's arms. We juggle her back and forth a lot, although I'm slowly figuring out how to do just about everything one handed. Jen is still much better, and has prehensile toes to boot. Willow now weighs very close to five pounds (she may indeed be five pounds by now) and her face is looking a bit chubbier.

and now, a list of things recently purchased that will make life easier:

Bunk bed. It was put together with a bit of sweat and a small amount of cussing, but the kids have taken to it fairly well. No more mattresses on the floor for us.

Coffee pot. The old coffee pot started emitting the smell of fried wires and then just refused to brew anything - this after either not staying on or not staying off at the correct times for a month or two. The new coffee pot is quite high end. This is good. Coffee is good.

Wind scorpion. Okay, I'm not sure how this will make life easier, but it sure is cute. It's much smaller than the last one I had, which means that it will probably live longer. The last one now graces a piece of art created by M. for his art show at Aquarius records next week. It is wearing a little party hat and is posed so that it appears to be looking excited at the prospect of cake.

cds I listened to while enjoying the almost full moon: Days of the Moon "The Words and Music of David Mellor" and "The Prince", What Happens Next? "The First Year", Paradise Lost "Say Just Words", Current 93 "The Seahorse Rears to Oblivion", and Mental Measuretech "Songs From Neuropa"

Just for the record - the whole concept of "freedom fries" is about the stupidest thing I've ever heard.

Dammit! I'm having the same problem that Jen had. I wrote a rather lengthy post and then couldn't get it to publish. Something fishy is going on here. Here's the gist of it: I got a new bug. The kids got a new bed. We rehearsed for a show. Willow is cuter than you. I listened to a bunch of cds.

It is windy and slightly rainy tonight. Jen and Willow are asleep in the bed behind me, so I'm trying to type quietly. Last night Jen got barely any sleep, and I stayed up until 5:30 in the morning holding Willow so Jen could quiet down The Dickens. I watched a Frida Kahlo documentary I've had for years but for some reason had never gotten around to watching. She couldn't have kids due to a bus accident that (among other things) fractured her pelvis, and a some of her art reflects this longing for a motherhood that she could never experience. I've always felt drawn towards artists who channel their pain into their art - it is brave and honest, and... necessary. Willow mostly slept through it. We're discovering that she is perfectly content when cradled in our arms, but tends to squirm and fuss when put down. We're perfectly content holding her, so it's a good match. The only problem is that there are so many other things (and people) that need our attention. A case in point is The Dickens, who continues to teach us about the transitory nature of ownership. The most recent lesson involved a coffee mug I've had for years.

Earlier tonight I almost tripped over a duck who alerted me just in time by quacking at me. Moments later I got back in my car and listened to a sad song about a duck. How odd.

cds I listened to while avoiding waterfowl: Odetta "Best of the Vanguard Years" and "To Ella" (remember, you cannot almost sing), Upright Citizens "Underground", Mecca Normal "The First Lp", The Sun Also Rises "s/t", Malvina Reynolds "Ear to the Ground", Boiled In Lead "Orb", and The Wyld Olde Souls "Poems From the Astral Plane"

Willow is home and sleeping in a crib in our room. The other kids crowded around excitedly when we walked through the door with her, and The Dickens even licked her. Of course, she also licks dogs. So much for cleanliness. Now, in the wee hours of the morning, The Dickens is awake, and Jen hasn't gone to sleep yet. Somewhere a cricket is chirping. I have a feeling I should try to get some sleep now. I am happy.

cds I listened to while rushing to get back home: Ofra Haza "Shaday", Mecca Normal "Who Shot Elvis?", Odetta "Sings Ballads and Blues", Total Egon "Samling I Det Grona", The Billy Nayer Show "The Ketchup and Mustard Man" soundtrack, and Paradise Lost "The Last Time"

now: Popol Vuh "Bruder des Schattens - Sohne des Lichts"

There was a light misting of rain on my windshield tonight, which was nice, but I hope it doesn't rain too much tomorrow because it looks like we get to bring Willow home. It can rain all it wants after she's firmly ensconced in our room, but it wouldn't do at all for her to get rained on between the hospital and here. We've got a crib set up for her next to our bed, and Jen's friend K. is giving us a bunkbed for the boys. We thought that this was so nice of her that we went out and bought her a Bearded Dragon to replace their household's recently deceased one. The store we bought it from packed it up in one of those little chinese food takeout boxes. Strange but true.
Earlier, we went to Costco to get bedding, and The Dickens had a gleeful time charging up and down the aisles, dodging carts and growling to herself. I don't think she would have had more fun if we'd taken her to an amusement park.

I had a funny moment today when I realized that somebody I'd been trading e-mails with was actually somebody I knew using an assumed name. I'm not allowed to say more.

Willow, your eyes are liquid blue pools, the depths of which I cannot fathom. In them there is a hint of the beyond. It will fade as you become more firmly anchored in this reality, but the sheer wonder you see around you does not have to fade with it. Hold onto your sense of wonder. Always.

cds I listened to while being misted by rain: Mecca Normal "Sitting On Snaps", "Jarred Up", and "The Eagle and the Poodle", Kristin Hersh "The Grotto", Subhumans "29:29 Split Vision" and "Unfinished Business", Ofra Haza "Fifty Gates of Wisdom", and Tongue "Faulty Parts"

now: Popol Vuh "Nosferatu"

Willow might be coming home this week! She's out of her incubator (or isolette, as they're called) and is gulping down everything that is fed to her. We've been rushing around trying to get things ready. Very exciting. It's going to be a busy week.

cds I listened to while trying to figure out what else needs to be done before Willow comes home: Tom Rapp "A Journal of the Plague Years", Mecca Normal "Flood Plain", Paradise Lost "Gothic" ep, For The Dead In Space - Interpretations of the work of Tom Rapp and Pearls Before Swine, Strebers "kallt Stal/Varmt Blod", and Ofra Haza "Kirya"

Now: Faun Fables "Early Songs"

A Cheshire Cat moon hangs above.

Willow continues to grow bigger (she's back up to 4 pounds, 6 ounces) and stronger. She has been finishing her bottles at the designated feeding times, and is showing interest in her surroundings. Tonight, after she finished eating, she spent some time just looking around. Who knows what she makes of her surroundings - she seemed to be looking at the overhead lighting. She also looked at me, of course. It's amazing to cradle her in my arms while she tries out her eyes and her facial muscles. Her mouth changes from a smile to a little pout to an "o" of surprise and back again. It's sort of like she hasn't figured what all the buttons do yet. She'll learn.
She sucks on her bottle with more tenacity now, and doesn't lose interest. Earlier in the day she nursed and used the bottle. Jen has been pumping milk like crazy to keep up. We did manage to take a little break between feeding times and go see a movie - David Cronenburg's "Spider". If you've ever wondered how that haunted-looking guy who's muttering to himself while picking miscellaneous objects off the sidewalk got the way he is, this film offers one possible scenario. Very recommended.

Earlier this weekend I talked briefly with a friend (who I probably see about once a year) who had recently gotten hit by a car. She still stutters due to nerve damage sustained in the accident. I remember when I heard about her being hit I thought that if she had been more seriously injured (or worse) I might not have heard about it for a long time, if ever. It would be like looking up at the stars and seeing their reassuring light, even though some of those stars we "see" might actually have gone supernova during the vast span of time that it takes their light to reach the earth. One perceives that everything is all right until news to the contrary reaches one's ears. If the news, for whatever reason, never comes, then... well, I guess this would be a case of "ignorance is bliss". That said, I'm glad she escaped with only minor injuries.

I also managed to find the time to go on a hike with M. in the woods near his house. This was during the time that we had set aside to rehearse for the upcoming Irr.App.(ext.) show, but G. and R. decided to pick this weekend to become ill. Perhaps next weekend things will work out.

cds I listened to while light from stars that may or may not still be there shone down upon me: Forrest Fang "Gongland", Magma "Les Voix" and "Mekanik Kommandoh", Strebers "Oga For Oga", Pearls Before Swine "Constructive Melancholy", Univeria Zekt "The Unnamables", Vladimir Martynov "Night in Galicia", and Voivod "s/t"

now: Howard Shore "M Butterfly" soundtrack

The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit is a strange environment to spend one's first days in. Some of the babies are under Bili Rubin lights to combat jaundice. All of them are hooked up to monitors. Some have feeding tubes. Some are in incubators. This is the world that replaces the womb, since for one reason or other they can no longer be in the comforting, liquid darkness inside their mothers. Jen was telling me of a story she heard about a little girl (I think it was a girl...) who had spent the better part of a year in the N.I.C.U. before being sent off to the pediatric ward. The little girl, nearly one year old, had never seen anything but the N.I.C.U., and was very excited to see her new home away from home. It's all relative, I guess. These babies don't know any other world. They just recline in their plastic substitute wombs, waiting unknowingly for the day when they get to move beyond the walls into the world outside the hospital.

Willow is opening her eyes more, but lost an ounce - probably due to all the energy she has to expend to suckle. It's going to be a long month.

cds I listened to while rushing to get back home: Holy Smokes "s/t", Lydia Lunch "Widowspeak", Faraway Brothers "Start the Engine & Drive Away", and The Stalin "Stop Jap + 1 Mushi Go Go" (another bootleg of hard-to-find japanese punk...)

now: Nocturnal Emissions "Mouth of Babes"

I went to the hospital for Willow's 8 o'clock meal and managed to get her to drink about a third of it. The rest went through her feeding tube, which goes up her nose. She got her little fingers hooked around it a couple of times and managed to pull off some of the tape. It must be pretty uncomfortable. She squirmed and cried a bit as the nurse re-taped it, and then didn't go back to sleep right away. She just looked around a bit, and as I looked back I caught a glimpse of the little girl she'll be someday. She looks a bit like Sophie somehow, although I can't put my finger on exactly why I say that. I didn't leave until she closed her eyes again. I just couldn't. I sat there and rubbed her back until she felt comforted (or until I felt she felt comforted anyway).

The nurse asked me what her middle name was, and I said that we hadn't decided on whether or not she would have one. The nurse said that in the Philippines where she was from the children all got the mother's maiden name as their middle name. That way the mother's family name got carried on in some fashion. You learn something new every day. I told her that for a time in Germany it was legal for a man to take his wife's last name. Of course in the U.S. nothing this interesting ever happens. Culturally, we're a third world country.

cds I listened to while continuing to think about Willow: The Angels of Light "Everything Is Good Here/Please Come Home" (appropriate title), Low "The Curtain Hits the Cast", K./Low split ep, Lucifer Was "Underground and Beyond" and "In Anadi's Bower", Lydia Lunch "Honeymoon In Red", and The Stalin "Stop Jap + Go Go Stalin"

now: Lustmord "The Place Where the Black Stars Hang"

We visited Willow today (of course) and I got to take off my shirt and lay her against my chest, warming her with my own body the way nature intended it to be done. She's so light I could barely feel her. She is totally dependent on those around her for everything. It's funny how in our particular society most people raise their children to be independent when it seems that the natural state of things is interdependence. I suddenly think of a book I read once - the title was (if I remember correctly...) My Name is Chellis and I'm in Recovery From Western Civilization, by Chellis something-or-other. It's hard to divorce yourself from your culture. How do you raise a child without the insidious influence of the dominant culture? We limit ourselves by accepting the status quo. I want things to be better for Willow. As of yet she is unaware of the world around her. How long will she hold on to the dreamtime? How can we weave the dreamtime into reality? How long will the wonder last?

We're going to have to add a carseat to the van. Nathan gets to graduate to a booster seat and The Dickens gets Nathan's old seat. It seems that The Dickens feels she deserves a window seat. We shall see...

And how to change the sleeping arrangements at home...?

cds I listened to while thinking of Willow: Low "Christmas", "One More Reason to Forget", and "Things We Lost in the Fire", Tom Rapp "Sunforest", Spazz "La Revancha", As We Die for... Paradise Lost (tribute cd), and Low/Dirty Three "In the Fishtank"

now: Robert Rich/B. Lustmord "Stalker"

The operating room, with its lights and arcane gadgets, was full of hurried activity. Jen was on the table, with a screen between her head and the rest of her body so she couldn't see the operation. I walked up and held her hand. The nurse (or doctor?) who stood at the head of the bed motioned towards a chair behind her and told me that I might want to sit in it because people had been known to faint while watching c-sections. I told her that I was staying right where I was. I wanted to see our daughter being born. I wanted to stand witness to the procedure. I wanted to be right next to Jen.
She was awake, but could feel nothing but a slight tugging from below her torso. She asked me what I could see. They had already started the operation, and were moving quickly. they had covered her abdomen in that yellow plastic (surgical skin? I don't know what it is called...) and had already cut into her. I could see a cross section of skin and tissue where the lower half of the incision gaped open. The doctors stretched her open wider. I saw her water break and gush out, pooling on the plastic. The doctors' hands were inside her and then there was a baby being lifted out. Just like that. They whisked the baby into the next room and I followed, knowing that Jen was in good hands. This was my first glimpse of our daughter. She didn't look premature, even though I knew she was. Her head was round, not squished like it would have been if she had been delivered naturally. She was crying - a series of gurgly little cries that indicated there was fluid in her lungs. The fluid would have been squeezed out during the process of moving through the birth canal, but hadn't been in this case since she had been lifted through a different exit. A trio of nurses pounded on her back with what looked like little rubber suction cups, and siphoned fluid from her nose and mouth. The cries began to sound less phlegmy. They finally got to a point where they were satisfied, and took her off to the neonatal intensive care unit.

She weighed 4 pounds and 9.8 ounces at birth, and measured in at 16 inches. She was born at 5:55 pm on tuesday the 25th of February. Her name is Willow. It all happened so fast. I stood there dazedly while a nurse explained to me about the table they were putting her on - heated but not an incubator, and about the room itself. There were other babies there. Some where much smaller than Willow.

So, why did this all happen? It turned out that Jen had an abrupted placenta - it had come loose in a couple of places and was bleeding, which compromised that baby's blood supply and could have been really serious for both Jen and the baby if not checked. She pointed out some time later that if this had happened early last century there was a good chance that they both would have died. As it is, we have a daughter who will be in the hospital for a few more weeks. She has a touch of jaundice, can't regulate her temperature very well, and needs to put on some weight. She spends roughly 99% of her time sleeping, and when she wakes up she looks like a little gnome. She is really good at knitting her little brow and giving the world a look of consternation - sort of the look you'd expect a gnome to bestow upon you if you ever came across one behind a rock or under a bush. It's a look that says, "I've been discovered and I don't know if I'm happy about it." When I look back at her I marvel at the fact that she was supposed to be inside Jen for another six or seven weeks. Her eyes don't really focus on anything. It's as if they are still turned inward, seeing mysteries from some previous world. I imagine that Willow has a wisdom that can't be communicated.

Maybe her middle name should be "Gnome". Somehow I don't think Jen will go for it.

In order for us to visit Willow now, we have to spend three minutes scrubbing our hands and arms in a little washroom and put on a hospital smock over our clothes. A couple of days ago the man at the next sink turned to me and said, "I know you." It turned out he was an old co-worker of mine from way back when I worked at Tower Books. My main memory of him was of the time one of the bookshelves in the back room, loaded with books, fell over on top of him. By the time I arrived on the scene, other employees had lifted it off and he was lying on his back in a pile of children's books. But that was then, and this is now. Now he weighs a hundred pounds less (this is why I didn't immediately recognize him) and had a granddaughter sleeping in the little bed next to Willow's. We also share the same first name.

I wore a shirt to the hospital yesterday that depicted a pair of smoker's lungs - a photo of real, blackish, diseased lungs with the caption "smoking is cool!" underneath. I figured it would go over well with the hospital staff. It did. On the way out a rather humorous thing occured. A man, in an attempt to cadge a cigarette, asked if I smoked. Some people's powers of observation are a little... what is the word I'm looking for... absent.

Jen came home today. She is really unhappy over the fact that Willow is still in the hospital. So am I, of course, but Jen is really feeling it. We're going to spend as much time there as possible, which isn't as much time as we would like. The other kids make that difficult. My jobs make that difficult. We are slightly consoled by the fact that Willow spends most of her time sleeping. She is not crying and searching for us. She is snoozing in her warm little bed. That actually sounds like a good idea...

cds I listened to while thinking about Willow: Nurse With Wound (strangely enough, there is a nurse with a wound in the maternity ward - she has a bandage over one of her eyes) "A missing sense" (if the nurse had bandages over both of her eyes, she would indeed be missing a sense...), Love is Colder Than Death "Atopos", Low "Dinosaur Act", "Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me", and "Secret Name", Le Mystere des Voix Bulgares "A Cathedral Concert", Philippe Eidel and Arnaud Devos/Les Voix Bulgares de L'ensemble Radio Sofia "Balkan", Pearls Before Swine "Balaklava", Bee and Flower "What's Mine is Yours", and Low & Springheel Jack "Bombscare"

now: Unblocked disc 2: From the Danube Through the Carpathians

Last tuesday Jen called me at work and said that the bleeding that had been mystifying us for a couple of days had gotten worse, and that she wanted to go have it looked at. She sounded worried, so I left work and drove quickly home. I met her in the driveway. Our friend Diana was there to drive her to the hospital (at this point I still thought she was going to go have a simple sonogram). I followed them in my car to Valley Medical Center where we bypassed the emergency room, electing instead to go directly upstairs to Labor and Delivery. We explained our problem and were seen quickly (by hospital standards). A lot of the staff remembered her from her previous stay in December, so they already knew a bit about the history of the pregnancy. It felt like a bad kind of deja-vu. They saw us in the same triage room we had been in last time, one bed over. The bleeding was copious enough to worry them and it was determined that is was not coming from the cervix, but through it from the inside - most likely from her placenta. The doctors started talking about c-sections, and the feeling of deja-vu grew more intense. At least this time we were closer to the baby's due date. Our hopes of having a home birth were dashed, and before we knew it Jen was being wheeled down the hall to an operating room. I was going to be able to witness the operation, but had to get into hospital scrubs. I found myself in a little supply room where I struggled into the necessary garments. Through a gap between some shelves I could see out the window as the sky began to darken in preparation for the oncoming night. On a shelf behind my I noticed boxes containing something called "skin staplers". Out in the hall I could hear a nurse (or perhaps a doctor) discussing the operation, calling it "another c-section". I wanted to walk out there and introduce myself to her as Another C-section's husband, but thought better of it. I reminded myself that what was hopefully a once-in-a-lifetime event for me was probably a several-times-a-day occurence for them. Then a nurse rushed in and told me they were ready to begin the operation. I dropped the bag containing Jen's clothes, pulled on a mask that was hastily handed to me, and rushed into the operating room... (to be continued)