Sins of Father

Who is my father? An adopted man (I began looking up his roots, stopped, I don't have time and I guess I do not care enough) a man with no history, and who does not want one. 

A selfish man who lived his life in pursuit of nothing but his own interests. He hated his job, sure, but he was there first (in order to beat rush hour, it was frustrating for him to have to deal with traffic, so he left the house at six or six-thirty) and came home last, maybe in time for the six o'clock news. Twelve hours out of the house for a job he didn't care about, the job his father did. No imagination. No creativity. Only sitting up late in his underpants, eating cheese and bologna, reading history.

How did I come from this man? Yes, thanks to him (and mother) I have learned how to be wildly out of touch with my emotions, how to be politely passive-aggressive, how to mutter under my breath. How to desire nothing, how to achieve nothing. How have I come as far as I have with parents like these? How did I develop a need to show off, to attract attention, and how did I come to a place where people look to me as a leader?

Has Toni taught me everything? How to cope with being needed? How to make difficult decisions? How to enjoy the air, the animals, other people? How not to suffer fools gladly?

I was feeling dowdy the other day, the weather has been crummy again, we are short on laundry and I never had particularly attractive winter clothes, anyway (like father, like son - we all dress terribly until there is a woman to dress us up) and my hair was longish, it cannot grow too long on my bald head without looking bad. So I trimmed it, but trimmed it closer than normal, and I shaved, trimmed my goatee and I thought, hey, that's an attractive man. An attractive, bald man in his thirties. Not a young man who has grown too old and doesn't know what to do with his life, but a man, a simple man, a man who has a wife and owns a house and is expecting a child and is living a life, and he looks all right.

What if the child isn't healthy? Will I blame myself for not insisting she not have that occasional glass of wine, to not take so much Tylenol, will it be my fault?

What if the child isn't healthy? What will I do? I will cope. I will cope. We will cope. Cope like I was never taught how.

The books say it is normal for a father-to-be to assess their own father in this way. But it is still awful. And he is changing, too. It's not just me. He is becoming like his father in so many way he talks about things without care for whether or not he's being a bore, he foists strong philosophical and religious beliefs on us. He sees the end and he is desperate to make an impact. His father has annoyed him for so long. And now he is annoying me. What a terrible cycle.

It's 11:30.

Nesting

Good morning. Happy Saint Patrick's Day.

Toni's appetite is up, we have been consuming the calories we need (she needs) for the baby. But as of yesterday we were both concerned that the baby isn't moving as much as it used to, it doesn't kick as heard, and only moves occasionally.

She was very upset. She is way behind in school and before spring break her boss let her go with some unfair words of criticism. And she is upset about the baby.

I asked her to call the midwife and she said she would feel stupid, she should have called her days ago and besides, we will see her on Monday and it was last-thing Friday. We went round and round and I began getting upset, the old Father's Rights thing, but I was only getting emotional about it. I froze up for awhile, I was feeling all kinds of terrible things, then it became about me, and it all came spilling out -- well, no, it came in bursts, it was hard. About the first blood test, about the baby disappearing in my head, like we would wake up one morning from a dream, together, and think, weren't we pregnant? Wasn't that a happy dream?

She called. We got advice -- a cold glass of juice and then lie down and wait for kicks. Less than 3 in a half hour. We wait another half hour -- less than four in an hour, call the doctor.

She felt seven faint movements in 25 minutes.

We went out for Chinese -- another good indicator is when you eat, it should move around a lot right after that. She was kicked in the bladder several times after we had begun eating.

Before we called, I wanted to sing to it. I sand the Mockingbird song, and it moved, right then when I started.

We came home. We watched "The West Wing" on tape. We got in bed. We had sex. Toni slept all night long ... for the first time in months.

I am up early to work on the nursery, but I owed myself time to drink coffee, write in my journal, maybe have breakfast. Nothing but work on the house today, and dinner with the Pedacis tonight.

Headache

Every night is awful. It used to be that she would get terrible indigestion just as she got into bed -- and then there was the snoring. 

She is now used to having the indigestion (it is still no picnic, but she is used to it) and I got earplugs -- and just as I was used to those, she now develops terrible head and neck aches in the middle of the night and I rouse myself to rub her head or neck or whatever. She then sleeps in the morning and I feel like shit.

Yesterday (or the day before) she said she never wants to have a baby again and I think she means it. I think I never want her to have a baby again. 

Of course, I was never kidding myself (though I think she was) into believing a pregnancy would be easy. Nothing else is easy, she was always been susceptible to slight alterations in her physical condition. She becomes faint easily, succumbs to heat, she is ill very, very often. I mean, she gets sick all the time and she always has.

After last weekend she missed Monday, half of Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday from work -- and then her boss said some unfair things to her over the phone, about Toni warning them at the beginning of the week about not coming in, and worse, on Friday when she did get into work the boss suggested we threw a holiday dinner party (one which this woman did not even attend) to make up for lost hours last semester.

Toni may have missed a lot of time at work over this pregnancy, but her boss sounds truly fucked-up for some of the things she said to Toni this week and it has made Toni furious.

Would she be getting headaches anyway? I say yes, the books say yes, but this gives her something to really focus on.

For the moment

How is Toni?

Good question. Again, last night, she was up a good portion of the night. After Saturday, she did not go to work on Monday, then tried on Tuesday but could only make it through half of the day. She took another suppository that night but was determined last night not to, hence she was awake. Achy, stiff, pain in her stomach.

She thinks she picked up a flu bug that simply has not gone away -- she cannot take the kind of drugs that would defeat such a virus, they would harm the fetus. So she muddles through. She did not attend the Bradley class last Sunday, but I did. I recorded it for her, but she hasn't listened to the recording, it is still sitting on my desk.

How is the Fetus/Creature?

We do not know. It is upsetting to me that she has been so continually ill throughout the pregnancy, and I do not just mean nauseous, Toni is regularly nauseous at the best of time. I mean sick, writhing in pain, not getting any sleep.

Sometimes I think Toni thinks I am not taking the baby seriously. I know I do not do my reading ... but I do clean the cat box and feed the cats, something she should not do, and I wash the dishes and do all of the picking up, i maintain the order of the house, such as i is so she can be free to be pregnant.

Wait, we're not talking about me yet. The baby.

So the baby, which used to do amniotic backflips, has settled down a lot. We do not know if this is because it is growing very fast now (we are entering the seventh month, getting there ...) or because of all of the medication has affected it. Is it a lot of medication? Who knows, I wish I had asked, but if the midwife said it was all right, maybe it is. We do not know.

What can you do but worry? There's no turning back.

I sing to it when I think to. Beatles songs, Toni tries to get me to sing proper children's songs, I want to sing Cole Porter. I think children's songs are childish. I don't know what effect this will have on the baby, maybe it will arrive smoking a reefer.

How is Dave?

Good question. Little regular sleep and lots of other things going on, it has been quite a strain.

Monday we bought a new board game, listened to CDs and enjoyed each others' company.

Tuesday we watched "The Contender" on video.

Last night friends came over and we ate corned beef sandwiches and played a board game.

Tonight I got Indian food for Toni (it is quite the restorative for her, calm, comforting) and spent the evening ... well, it's just nine and I already took out the trash, put leftovers in plasticware, and here I am writing, something I never do.

I feel more private. Work is work. Home is home. Play is play. In theater all those things overlap. But this feels nice, for the moment.

As will be suggested by the autopsy, Calvin dies sometime between now and next Tuesday, March 13.

Long night

I can't believe it's after five ... what a difficult ... day?

I was really looking forward to the final GULF cast party, which we had last night here at the house. Only the cast and company were here, and that was great. We talked, watched videos -- Toni went to bed around midnight. The cast stayed until 3:30 AM.

Toni was up. She had terrible stomach pain, and was unable to sleep. Even when she could relax her stomach, her back would hurt and if she got her back comfortable, her stomach would hurt. I didn't know what to do, and I had been up since seven the morning before, I wanted to sleep so badly.

By five o'clock I deduced this had gone far enough, I had run a bath for her (to help with the aches) but then she began vomiting and I would rub her back for a while. I tried a relaxation exercise but then her stomach kept hurting and she needed to vomit again. I called her mother (I scared her by calling so early -- but not for waking her, she is always up around four in the morning) and she told us to go to the hospital, which is what we did after consulting the midwife.


From six-thirty-ish until nine-ish we were delirious in a hospital room, Toni on an IV drip to keep her from dehydrating, they observed her, decided she has a rather serious stomach flu and sent us home with a prescription for medication to take care of the nausea. Toni has been sleeping since we got home, I slept for about four or five hours. I am wrecked, my body aches but I am not sleepy enough to sleep.

A Saturday. I was going to do housework but I can't piddle around upstairs while Toni needs her rest -- besides, I am exhausted. I did pay the bills (a few days late) and began tax preparations. Now I am writing. I need to finish benefit letters ... and blah, blah, blah, so many other things.

I wanted to work on the nursery, or at least ruminate on it, that's my next big project. I think. There's always some big project. I think I will call for Monday off from work, I need to catch up from all of this.

The Event

Partiers L to R: Toni, Leah, Rob & Scollard

We were up late for Bad Epitaph's CARNIVAL Benefit. I had to drive Heather all the way back to her place in western Lakewood, I was in bed by three and up again by ten to get to the brewery by noon. I was tired. And I was there to help everyone tear down the benefit.

Two and a half hours later I was rushing downtown for what? For the event, the commemoration of the tenth anniversary of the end of the Gulf War, of the "liberation of Kuwait." Two weeks earlier John Campbell (I still don't know his rank) also known as "Leah's vet" invited all of us. I knew Leah would be there, she was supposed to get an award or something, or so she had told me though it was supposed to be a secret. I assumed no one else from the show would show up, but who knows?

The Naval Reserve Center, where the event was to be held was on "East Ninth across from the Rock Hall" -- little did I know that was exactly where it was, a completely unnoticeable building down there by the harbor. I had parked way up a Lakeside and though it was unseasonably warm (61 degrees said the billboard on the stadium) it was so windy.

Just across I-90 this guy is on the off-ramp at the light in an I-Roc, he rolls down the window, "Hey!"

"Yeah?" I ask, but miss his question, it's blown away on the wind. I get closer.
"What?"

"Where's the Rock Hall?" he asks.

I swing my arm behind me and point at the extremely odd-looking glass pyramid that stands out against the sky like the world renown building that it is.

"That's the Rock Hall," I shout.

When I walk through the doors of the Naval Center, I am wind-whipped and nervous. A man in cammos waiting at the door doesn't even ask what I am there for, he tells me "downstairs, end of the hall." So that's where I go.

It's a long narrow hall, I have to go through a few doors and it actually gets quieter not louder so I don't know if I have passed it or what. At the end of the hall there are cadets, at least six deep, on either side of the hall.

As I approach the first (perhaps to ask - is this the room?) they all snap to attention and salute. I actually jumped back. The one on the end smirked. I didn't know what to do. At the end of them I see Campbell, waving me forward. He's got a big smile on his face. "Don't be scared," he said.

I walked through, nodding deferentially at the cadets. Freaky.

Leah and her parents are right there, in the front row and they make room for me. I am still freaked. We are the only two of the cast who come.

Campbell apparently organized this chapter of Gulf vets, and they seem to love him a great deal. A lot of awards were handed out, he put together most of them though a few were from others to him, and he was noticeably surprised and choked up. I already knew from Leah's work that he is quite an emotionally connected man.

I finally see him bring up an award that had a copy of "The Gulf" program in it. He talks to these people, this room full of veterans, cadets, parents of soldiers who died in Saudi Arabia, journalists, about our little play. About these teenagers and young adults, who searched their hearts, asked difficult questions, wrote short plays and put on a show about their war. We remembered what they had done.

Then he asked me to join him at the podium. I was very surprised.

I walked up, he thanked me, I cannot remember what he said (he, of course, made a joke about my looking like Dr. Green) and gave me an award, a frame with a black, cloth background -- the program, a U.S. flag patch, a commemorative stamp, a Gulf War medal with the state of Kuwait on it -- and the caduceus, the symbol of medicine, the symbol of healing. I thanked him. I took the plaque. I sat down.

Leah was honored next, she received the plaque and an American flag.

We were the only two people who were not affiliated with the military or politics who were honored that day. And I have conflicted feelings. I am proud, and I feel so strange about where I came to be honored by a veterans group. I protested this war. I set out the produce a play that condemned this war as a cynical exercise. I bristled at plays called "Patriotism" and plays that went out of their way to vilify Saddam Hussein. And yet something honest came through, so honest that even those who might be offended by its candor, by its questioning, by its refusal to accept the line as it has been handed down, saw what was real, and special about this work.

I don' know what to think about it. I didn't know what to say -- others had given speeches and I didn't thank I would have if I had been ready for it. It was all said in the play.

Enjoying the mystery

First Bradley Method class. We move on, our pregnancy moves from a personal realm to a much more public one, interacting with other couples, couples we never speak directly to for an entire two hours who we will see, week after week, for twelve weeks. Learning how to give birth. Learning how to coach birth. Learning a method for making a truly distressing life experience as pain-free and easy as is is possible. As is possible.

I put my head against Toni's belly -- we have begin to sing songs. We sing together. And we sing stupid children's songs to the creature inside. "I've Been Working On The Railroad." The "Mockingbird" song (what are those lyrics?) John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt. Are we going to have to sing children's songs to our child? Wow. I assumed we would sing cool songs, Cole Porter.

I press my head against her belly and I feel the baby kick my face. I listen, in the quiet, to the noises inside Toni, the noise that the baby hears (yes, now a baby, not just "the fetus" or "the creature") because, you know, I cannot picture it as a baby. Because it isn't one yet. I was never good at imagining myself as a grown up, nor anyone else. I do not play such fantasy games, maybe it's because my father never encouraged us to have goals. But I want to know what it is like now, to meet the baby on its own terms, not make up some imagining future I cannot possibly know.

It's warm. It's wet. It's dark. It swims around, there's still enough room. I don't know if it's a boy or a girl. But it swims around in there, and kicks, registers its opinion to its mother.

When it joins us out here, I will know the answers to so many questions. Right now I am enjoying the mystery.

Fever

Yesterday I developed a fever, and last night was difficult ... I had to sleep apart from Toni, we were waking each other up. Things are very difficult, she gets indigestion, and she snores and I cannot sleep. Couple that with the fact that I could not get warm in bed, with her ... that was weird, I actually warmed up on my own in a different part of the house. So I was at home today, successfully doing nothing. The day after a show closed. I think that's a good thing.

The Gulf

Saturday there was a large crowd (for this show) roughly sixty people. Included were the subject of Heather's "I'd See You Again" piece, the mother who served and her daughter, then 10 years old, now a student at CSU. They were both tremendously moved. The mother never knew what it was like at home during that time, she had no idea how tumultuous it was for us as well. She has boxes of stuff from that time, but she hasn't looked at any of them. Some are filled with letters from children at home.

Last night, closing night, "Leah's Vet" came. She had mentioned him several times, he was a medic, and she had written a play or two about his experiences but they just didn't fit. But he came anyhow, with his wife, who was also in the Marines during the war, and their young son.

Leah had said, a week or two ago before the show opened, that this man wanted to speak to us, all of us,personally, while we were still working on this. That kind of creeped me out. Leah had remarked that, despite his emotions, how moved to tears he was remembering stories for her, she was also virulently anti-Iraqi. I didn't want any of the actors spooked by the potentially emotive, possibly angry rhetoric that might be shared.

But he was there, and insisted on all of us, the entire company, gathering together so he could speak to us, last night. And what he had to say was how much he and his wife loved the show, how grateful they were that we remembered them. He said Sean's portrayal of "PFC Guttenburg" and his talk about "family" was right on target, and how Josh's "Gulf War Syndrome" series was also very important, how many vets have died from the Syndrome, and how no one cares.

He also invited us all to an event commemorating the 10th anniversary of the peace declaration (Sun., Feb. 25) downtown. Rumor has it they will be honoring Leah at the event.

I realized some things myself last night. Of course, I discouraged the marketing director from promoting this event through VA halls. I am anti-war, a pacifist, and just assumed what we said was potentially offensive to Gulf War vets.

That was assuming all (or most even) vets haven't also spent the past ten years wondering what happened, and why no one talks about it. Sure, it was a decisive victory, and when they came home everyone was all gung-ho, yippee, all those stupid parades, &c. ... that was a long time ago. They, too, wonder what it was all about, and why no one walks about it. The fact that we decided to mention it at all was enough to make at least these three veterans thrilled. And they were all wise enough to know we weren't dissing them. The government maybe, but not them.

I was so depressed going into this ... a play about a war? What was I thinking? This isn't Guerrilla Theater Company, you can't just sling half-baked generalized opinions around, not about this. But the crew was fantastic. And for once I knew how to get the results I wanted. I wasn't always sure, but I followed my instincts and opened myself up for commentary from people like Sean and others. The format worked, the materials worked, the artists worked.

Despite the small houses (and what did I expect) I am immensely proud of this show. I am proud of all the people who made it, I am proud of myself.

Oh, and I was right about not needed the "Patriotism" monologue. Those vets let us know the show already had "patriotism" written all over it.

The Big Chill

So about a half-hour ago I gave up and woke up. Toni has been snoring very loudly, it wakes me up and then she gets all upset because I am awake and fidgety or that I get up too early. I'm only trying to let her sleep but it upsets here. But then I got to wash dishes, update the website and now I get to write in my journal.

I am about to be a father. And I read in one of these books how neglected fathers can feel (it was a touchy-feely DAD book - "The Expectant Father") but man, here I am and no one asks me how I am, what I think about being a father - they ask about Toni, which is great and I really shouldn't be thinking more of myself than her, but the fact that my friends don't even ask is a little chilling.

Long Time Passing

A Scene from "The Gulf"
Dobama's Night Kitchen

Confidence

The creature (as we now call it) is very active at funny times. It was enjoying "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" last night. Apparently it also has something to say about Toni's poetry analysis class. I haven't felt it yet, but it is slowly becoming more real. When there were doubts about its health I could image it disappearing, getting smaller - I was afraid to acknowledge it, to say good morning, to talk to it. Now it grows and grows. And I get excited.

Of course, that doesn't help me work any harder on the nursery, or anything else. But I did make dinner three times this week, and did clean out my office closet. This morning we saw the midwife, Ellen. She's great. Everything seems to be normal, normal weight gain, normal heartbeat, everything.

I have gotten in touch with a man through the Internet who maintains a site about the "Kassels" of Saint Louis, MO. I am trying to locate my father's birth parents. I have always wanted to do this, but after the scare with the fetus, I want to know as much as I can about my blood relatives. I do not wish to meet them, however. I just want to know.

Free Times Review

A stylish, energized and surprisingly impactful use of this late-night platform. A nice achievement, particularly considering all the things that might not have gelled with this production, including the format: 32 short plays by nine different authors crammed into one short, low-budget hour.

"The Gulf" ... manages to transcend the ambivalence inherent in the theme. It was a short and uninspiring war, but soldiers faced death and civilians felt loss. So it is possible that this recent and brief period in history, when examined thoughtfully, can yield insight into greater and darker events of the more distant past.

Support the troops. See "The Gulf." - Marie Andrusewicz

Responsibilities

My weight is staying around 170, which doesn't suck. I do not feel bloated or fat. I have resumed going to the gym, have done twice in the last two weeks which isn't enough, beet than nothing, and I will try to get into the habit of going at least twice a week.

Toni keep getting bigger. The fetus, the creature, the baby, is very active, swimming around inside of her. A little tiny human, inside of her, getting bigger every day.

The show has opened. There are responsibilities, my job, my theater, benefits to throw, classes to schedule, a book to sell (got another rejection letter yesterday) -- but there are also clothes to wash and put away, food to purchase and meals to prepare, and a nursery to create. For when we become a family. The Thayer-Hansen family. I am scared, and I am unsure. I am nervous that I will be a joke of a father. But I want this so badly and I can't even begin to explain why.

Remember

I came home from rehearsals so exhausted, just wanting to get it all out of my system, and the days have been spent caring for a poor sick Toni ... and you know, I think I am not in the habit of taking notes on everything -- productions, my personal life -- because my life is the full, busy, and largely well-run thing that it is. I do not need to remind myself how to do certain things, I remember.

But then there are the things we forget and I should be writing those down. I hope some can be found here.

Grinding halt

And things are all right and not all right. The second ultrasound visit yesterday showed absolutely no abnormalities at all, but that doesn't prove there aren't any. Just as Toni's increased ABF levels don't prove there is anything wrong. (Uh, I think they are "AFB" levels.)

We were supposed to have dinner at the Pedacis' tonight but had to cancel. At first Toni seemed to be coming down with a cold but now she's vomiting again and can't lie down without becoming very ill. I may be sleeping in another room if only to keep me from becoming sick -- I haven't been sleeping very well with all of this going on and it makes it difficult for me to care for her.

Why why why why why why. I am grinding to a halt here, I can't get anything done except for this stupid play I am directing.

High levels

And things are not all right. Toni's levels are still high, they seem to have escalated. We will go in for another ultrasound tomorrow. I have an image from the previous ultrasound on my desktop. That is a little person to me, or is becoming so, and gradually. But there it is. And there is a slight possibility it will have problems. That it may have difficulty walking or need some kind of special therapy.

Toni told me about the tests not being what we wanted them to be while I was at work. I was crying at the office. I came home and just burst open with Toni. I am so scared, so sad -- I wanted everything to be perfect. Maybe they won't be perfect. When is anything perfect?

The War

And now it's a story. Our story of the war. I didn't think we were going to do this, it seems too ambitious to work. There's very little satire, just true stories of the war, fought at home and abroad. There are so many gaps in the "factual" account ... but I'm not certain it won't work. Tonight will be a very telling run-through. I hope it is enjoyable. Personal complications have made things ... complicated.

Reassurance

Things are all right. The ultrasound (one of which I am using for my desktop graphic) displayed no defects ... the fetuses' head is intact, strong looking, the spine looks strong, two hands, two feet, they couldn't see the very very base of the spine, where a lot of spinal openings, if present, can be found. They drew more blood, if the levels Toni had in the previous screening dropped we can safely chalk up the former test to, well, something else, something unknown. It was a stressful but reassuring experience.

Yes, there are a lot of things you can share with others, or rely on others for, but this is truly one where the two of you are on your own. Fortunately, Toni and I have been on our own for so much of our relationship already, it's just another part of the journey. One we knew we would have to take. I think we knew that.

Worry

Level 2 Ultrasound today. We will know a lot more today and I am scared. Not as scared as Toni. There's a reassuring voice in my head that tells me everything will be all right, and that voice is called denial. I simply cannot honestly fathom what to do if anything were wrong. So I don't. I acknowledge the possibility but take comfort (perhaps too much comfort) in the odds.

My father was adopted. I wish I'd found out why before I chose to get someone pregnant.

Complication

The new year has brought with it a series of complications and anxieties. Toni had a blood test, a screening test, to determine if there were any major genetic abnormalities with the fetus. She tested negative for Down's Syndrome, but got an abnormal in another part of the test, which could mean a host of things including (but the odds are against it) Spina Bifida.

It wasn't the news so much, she knows that could mean a number of things, including the fact that sh has, for example, twins (something she is almost sure she has thought I feel she is only being fanciful) but the way sh received it was outside the close knit loop we and the midwives have formed, it came from a dupe who works for University Hospitals. Someone mistakenly suggested she was automatically signed up for an amniocentesis test (which, at this stage and at her young age would cause more problems that it would detect, not to mention be traumatic and extremely painful) and anyway Toni had a really lousy Thursday last week.

We have calmed down a little, but the fear that our fetus might be deformed, genetically, has made me separate from it, want not to be too attached. What does Toni think? We haven't discussed it. Abortion is still an option, though a much more difficult one than it would have been even a month ago. She has really begun to grow. Everyone knows we are pregnant, so do we tell them we had to get rid of the "baby"?

I don't even want to think too closely on this, see, it probably isn't necessary but we must think about the worst to be prepared for it. But I want to be close to the baby, singing to it, telling it stories, but then I have already become so attached if anything should go wrong I will be one sad man.

Rested

Prince of Wales Hotel - Niagara-On-The-Lake

Delightful night's sleep, almost delirious. I keep waiting to have a real cold but it never comes.

And so, rested (very well rested) Toni and I will return home, ready to tackle the new year with energy. More to do now than ever, including construct a nursery. Not much time for anything else, huh? We shall see ...

She thinks she felt it move.

Happy New Year was spent in bed. After a harrowing, then pleasant time at the Skylon, we figured ringing in the new year in bed, warm and alone was better than doing it in the park with 30,000 others.

I have decided that, of all places here, I severely dislike the Skylon. It was uninviting and cramped. The floors downstairs are bare cement, giving it that Richfield Coliseum feeling, and upstairs, in the tower, JESUS.

We arrived at 8:30 for our 8:30 seating. Actually, we arrived at 8 or so, but it took a wait in line for the elevator to get to the lobby. In the lobby we waited for almost an hour to be seated. Toni was extremely unhappy, with people on all sides, alternately hot and cold, and having to stand.

There was this glad-handing stooge in a yellow turtleneck who cut in line. He emerged from the elevator in the middle of the queue, and never checked to see if that wasn't the wrong place to be. He was from Canton, he owns a Humvee - I'd seen him around town. On these roads, in a HUMMER. What a prick. I hated overhearing his conversations on line. "Solid!"

Our table was a booth, for two, facing out of the tower. So that was good. And the food, though not exemplary, made us very happy. I bought Toni a rose. It was our 12th new year's together. We speculated on future new years. What do you do with a baby?

Toni tells me she thinks she felt it move in the middle of the night.