Local Man on Being a Father for Second Time: "It's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick."

Well, welcome at long last Hull #2 (aka Rosalyn Sophia).  Her weight was roughly 0.00357142857 LT and her length was 1.7916667 feet.  For those of you living under the oppressive hand of the metric system that would be 0.00362873869 Metric Tons and 0.5461 meters.  

Cute kid.

It feels pretty good to be a father once again and I am doing all the things a good father does.  I am perusing through the updated and expanded version of "The Book of All Knowledge" that the hospital supplies all new fathers thanks to a Government grant, this time with a new forward by Lou Holz.  I am interested in buying sensible shoes, and reckoning it's time to invest heavily in plastics.  Nightly I sing the Upper Malakvian Prayer of Impending Doom for my testicles, who do not have long for this world (yeah, I know they won't cut 'em off, but it's just not going to be the same).

Priorities, of course, are being re-thought.  With Hull #1 (aka Elizabeth) it felt like my world was turned upside down.  In some ways this was good, in some ways it really wasn't.  This time I can feel myself moving from something more solid with a wealth of experience, trying to wrap my life around a change rather than having a change redefine the life.

Somethings will have to give, of course.  My ongoing experimentation with banana nut bread as an energy source will sadly have to be shut down.  Franz will be disappointed.  Also, I'm afraid I'm going to have to concede that my Broadway musical on the life of solider/sculpture/assassin Benvenuto Cellini will probably never see the light of day.  They said it couldn't be done, and they are probably right (though Berlioz did manage an opera).  But I think I can keep up the blog (such as it is...) and maybe I can keep taking those first floundering steps to actually writing something different that might, you know, actually pay...

And I think tonight, because Rosalyn hasn't really woken up yet and is still sleeping most of the time, I think I can watch one episode of Duck Dynasty's new run before I collapse from exhaustion.  I'm hoping the new Robertson will add a new dimension to the show, which I feel may have hit its cultural apex two seasons ago and is now going to merely become a parody of itself.

Let's go new Robertson dude.  I know I am going to pay for this tomorrow.  Don't disappoint me.

(That's what she said.)