I suspect I may be able to help keep another, smaller human being alive

As you might have heard, I seem to have fathered offspring. The developing life form is now about the size of a lima bean and is on schedule to join us in this non-amniotic outer world in mid to late December. A Christmas baby, perhaps.

So I've started to think about how it will be to share the responsibility of feeding a baby, keeping it safe and comfortable, eventually teaching it not to crap itself and maybe showing it how to partake in a few recreational pastimes, like darts or bocce ball.

I have been expecting and waiting for a rush of freaked-out-ness or giddy excitement or paralyzing fear or uncontrollable laughter or... something. Cause it's a big deal, right? Well, you may (or may not) be surprised to hear that none of these has come.

OK, there was one spell of uncontrollable laughter, but I'm confident it was unrelated.

So, I'm left with my usual dull-spirited self, taking my usual uber-dorky pleasures in things like reading and balancing the household budget. And oh the budgeting that is to be done in preparation for this young lima bean.

But this is not to say I have been without my own miniature emotions. I feel a sort of distant gladness and warmth toward the little developing human.

I've also noticed a mildly renewed ambition for household projects. There is a room to be repainted and decorated. Just last weekend I finally replaced the old grungy electrical outlets upstairs and put covers on them. (They had been coverless for the vast majority of our three years in this house.) And I've still got work to do toward creating a tolerable climate upstairs, since it currently feels a lot like a greenhouse on hot, sunny days -- and the nights that follow them.

I guess I'm not too terrified, is what I'm saying. I know raising a baby will be a lot of work, but I'm beginning to feel drawn to the idea of expanding our family beyond just me, the wife and the dogs. Let's face it, I've always been a more effective/productive person when given responsibilities -- versus being left with lots of idle time to try to fill.

I'm also hopeful about the idea of contributing a conscientious, useful citizen into society -- by which I mean someone who is not wasteful but cares about preserving the environment, someone who is generous to people who are less fortunate, someone eager to learn new ideas and also new skills to be better able to provide for himself or herself, etc. Unfortunately, we all know plenty of people bringing new babies into the world who have no such aspirations for them.

I won't get my hopes too high, though, because I know a parent only has so much control over how the child turns out. Parents are often disappointed. But nevertheless, these are some of my hopes for the little reptilian cluster of cells. (If I understand correctly, its arm and leg buds look kind of like tiny flippers right now.)

Now I've just gotten plain gooey, haven't I? Who knows, maybe someday I'll even become soft enough to let a boy wear argyle sweater vests.

Uh, no, never mind. That's not going to happen.

The Farce Side

If I could draw and decided to draw a comic strip for a living (or even just for fun), that's what I would call it: "The Farce Side".

I would labor on with badly-scrawled (as opposed to well-scrawled?) cartoons, begging small-town newspapers to publish my work, until one day I caught a features syndicate editor with an odd sense of humor in just the right mood and got myself a trial in 30 or so major newspapers across North America.

Then, the lawyers for a much more famous cartoonist would spot my work and notice the near-thievery of my title, and they would carefully weigh their options for suing me or not (or just writing me a threatening letter with a mysterious white powder in the envelope; I hear that's how copyright lawyers operate these days). In the end, though, my cartoon would never make it past its glorious three-month trial run, and so the lawyers would save themselves any further trouble by just watching it die under the weight of its own mediocrity.

That's why I'll never be a cartoonist. Lawyers. They screw up everything.

I really didn't have anything to write about today, but I was so sick of that Nutella jar photo sitting at the top of my page. I should have made some advertising revenue off of that. But I didn't. I'm sorry you guys had to look at that jar for almost two full weeks, and none of us has anything to show for it.

So, so sorry.