Donna gave birth to Claire last April after a careening
drive home from work that made OJ look like a nun driving over the steering
wheel sitting on several phone books. And speaking of phone books, why do they
still stick them on my front porch every couple months? I’ve got three laptops
and a secure wireless network with two silver phallic antennae sitting in my
office, so why the hell would I walk across the room, flip through some over-sized
phone book with pages thinner than Bible pages and look for some phone number
that I could actually get by typing about two lines of text on my keyboard that
I keep super glued to my legs.  So back
to Claire’s birth. After I played Pole Position through the street of my
suburban town, we made it to the hospital where she laid upside down on the
waiting room couch before they’d believe that yes something the size of a
watermelon wanted to shoot out of her.

It’s now almost 12 months later, she’s about ready to walk
all by herself and has even begun to shuffle walk, and I write this after
putting her down for a well-deserved sleep.