The Hafner Three

Pumpkin Carving

2006-11-09T08:21:00.000-08:00

From
Fri 27 Oct 06:

Today, Leigh, Angela, Sophia, and I got into the Halloween Spirit and carved some white pumpkins.

Sophia may have been around last Halloween, but she was fairly new to the world then and not very mobile. This year, however, she puts those motor skills to good use, diving right in to help Mom get the pumpkin brains into the bowl. After carving, we enjoyed some hot apple cider. Also, Leigh made some delicious toasted pumpkin seeds, carrying on a tradition from her mom (and Sophia's grandma).

Here is Leigh's ol' college friend, Angela, who visited the Hafner Three for five days. She currently lives in Tuscon. Her trip to Seattle is her first time seeing Sophia. As well, Angela has carved pumpkins only one other time in her life! Both Sophia and I really enjoyed meeting Angela and hope she moves back to Seattle someday.

An interesting point to note about Sophia's development is her recognition of facial features. Carving pumkins is a great way for her to identify a nose, the eyes, and a mouth. She can also point to her hair, head, and ears.

Thanks to Leigh, Angela, and Sophia for providing me with one of my favorite Halloween activities. I don't think I would have had time to carve pumpkins otherwise. Next year, we'll have to get Chris involved since he was at work during the festivities.

Make sure to check out Eric's post ...

2006-10-09T08:01:00.000-07:00

I just realized that with all of my photo posting, I've pushed down Eric's great post about taking Sophia to the Arburetum. Do not miss that post! Not only does it have some great photos of the young one, but Eric has a way with his descriptions that sum up Sophia's personality better than I ever could.

Make sure to either scroll down the page or click here to see it.

Rainier Picnic

2006-10-09T07:39:00.000-07:00

Rainier BW
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

Last weekend, Sophia and I got together my my folks, Steve & Erin and Steve's folks, and Kevin, his cousin, and Doug for a big picnic up at Rainier. Despite prognostications of cloudy, rainy weather, the day was stunningly beautiful.

It was also terrific to see Steve & Erin for the first time in years, and Steve's parents in a lot longer time than that. It was a great day.

Check out the slideshow here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online - you can check out all of the albums we've currently plowed through here.

Sophia's Colorful Toys

2006-10-09T07:36:00.000-07:00

Lego Jumble 2
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

Inspired by Sophia's eye-poppingly bright toys, I resolved to try to capture some of those colors and turn a select few into really creepy black-and-white images.

Check out the slideshow here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online - you can check out all of the albums we've currently plowed through here.

Lyle's Birthday Visit

2006-10-09T07:34:00.000-07:00

Blue Eyes mostly BW
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

Lyle stopped by to celebrate his birthday last weekend, and a good time was had by all.

Baby and Grandpa Lyle photos can be found at these links:

Check out the slideshow here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online - you can check out all of the albums we've currently plowed through here.

(and yes - the top photo is *not entirely* black and white)

Seattle Shooting

2006-10-09T07:32:00.000-07:00

Crazy Night Sky Vert
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

Hello, everybody! A few weeks ago I went out for some photography with my friend Ron. The goal? Capture both the historic PacMed Amazon building and the Seattle skyline at dusk.

Unfortunately, the weather was absolutely atrocious, so only a handful of the nearly 200 photos I took were even reasonably okay. So, if you're interested in some reasonably okay Seattle photography (and who could resist that description?), you've come to the right place.

Check out the slideshow here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online - you can check out all of the albums we've currently plowed through here.

Washington Park Arboretum

2006-10-08T17:18:00.000-07:00

Friday 6 October 2006: Sophia turns 14 months old today.

She can't quite say my name yet, so she just calls me Ick.

We head for the Washington Park Arboretum in her parent's car. It's the first time I've driven with a baby. I am admittedly a little nervous, but Sophia remains calm on our maiden voyage together. She points every so often while saying "car." At the Arboretum, we park at the vistor's center and stroll towards the maples. I'm hoping to see some beautiful fall colors in the leaves. Sure enough, we find a spot with some lush greens and vibrants reds and oranges. I take Sophia out of the stroller and plop her down to see what she will do. She just loves running around. It's a rainy, overcast day which makes for messy fun when she picks up leaves and sticks. She's sporting her new Frakenstien shoes; they're a bit big for her still but she manages.

Sophia seems to love nature, taking some extra time to admire this fern. She's such a great companion on our jouney out and very curious about the world around her.

Visiting Grandpa Lyle

2006-10-04T08:41:00.000-07:00

Grandpa Lyle
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

Leigh, Sophia, and I headed over to Grandpa Lyle's house on the peninsula a few weeks ago and had a great time. The excitement included watching the Seahawks win, trying to get Sophia to nap in a strange house, me getting a haircut, shopping at Fred Meyer, and a spectacularly beautiful ferry ride home.

Check out the slideshow here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online - you can check out all of the albums we've currently plowed through here.

North East Public Library!

2006-09-28T20:09:00.000-07:00

Wed 27 Sep 06
Today we head to the library just a few blocks from the house. We both have a blast. I find the articles needed for class and she finds "Bathtime." Her excitement reaches its peak in the children's section chirpping happy noises (kind of like words) and pointing at everything. Sophia loves books so she goes on sensory overload. Lots of running around and smiling and laughing and interacting with the other children . . . lots of saying "What's that?"

She keeps pulling individual books off the shelf, handing them to me only to run right back to the shelf for another. This goes on for about ten books or so. Sophia discovers the library's childsize tables, chairs, and beanbags. She touches and tries each one out like she's buying furniture at Nordstrum. As well, we pick up an information pamphlet to know when the library hosts a toddler reading time where someone will read a story to the children. Wow.

In the morning, Leigh tells me that Sophia picked out her own sweater. She knows stripes are still all the rage in young toddlers' fashion. As well, she sports a bruiser in the center of her forehead from an unfortunate crunch on the concrete in the park just a few days ago. At the library, Sophia meets a young girl, Pia, who keeps asking us if we want to see her "owey." Pia points to her scabby owey on her knee, and in turn, Sophia pats the center of her forehead. Is she really connecting the two? I have to think so, but it seems so amazing to me. I just love hanging out with this kid!

Eric's Babysitting Gig Begins

2006-09-20T09:06:00.000-07:00

Tue 19 Sep 06
I prefer to think that Sophia and I are simply spending time together instead of mere babysitting. Her development amazes me since my last post in early August. I notice today that she understands simple commands like “put on your hat.” She also communicates hunger by tapping her fingertips together in a clapping motion. She says “two” when “one” is said to her first, and she seems to blurt out “yo” for yogurt. As well, when her attention turns to the swings at the park, she points and says “weeeeeeee.” Here’s a self portrait with Sophia as we sit together on the swing.

Before the park and afternoon nap, there is lunch. Again, she has changed since August. I am surprised when she grabs the spoon confidently from my hand and proceeds to feed herself! The spoon and food move from hand to hand, upside down to right side up, and from the top of her face to the bottom. She is unforgiving for the mess and very proud of this recent skill as you can see.

Also at the park today, she is all about pinecones, red galoshes, and dandelions. Sophia finds a small pinecone and holds tight to it our entire time in the park. She is also very curious about another young girl in the park of about 7 or 8 years old, but then I realize that maybe Sophia simply likes the girl’s red galoshes. They are very stylish after all. At one point, the older girl takes off one of her galoshes and leaves it in the grass as she runs off to play. Seeing opportunity, Sophia is a beeline to the red boot. I try to persuade her away with the park’s red rocking horse, but Sophia is unconvinced that this is the better option. For the walk home, however, she picks a dandelion, sniffing it occasionally, and turns it into a limp, lifeless flower before we make it to the front door.

Thanks to Leigh and Chris for giving me a wonderful opportunity to spend so much time with Sophia. She just brightens my day! See you on Thursday, Sophia. A parting shot from the merry-go-round.

Enter Benjamin

2006-09-06T07:29:00.000-07:00

Playing Together
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

This weekend our friends Katie and Jeff came over with their son Benjamin, who is roughly two weeks younger than Sophia.

Sophia and Benjamin are old friends and always enjoy playing together, although Stackson's looming presence cast a shadow upon the proceedings for Benjamin. Cursed feline!

Check out the slideshow here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online - you can check out all of the albums we've currently plowed through here.

A Day at the Concours d'Elegance

2006-09-05T07:50:00.000-07:00

Phia wants a 360 Modena
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

To continue the theme of indoctrinating Sophia in all things automotive, this week I took her to the Italian Concours d'Elegance at Magnussen Park a mile away from our house.

It was a slightly different atmosphere from the blue-collar domestic ambiance at last week's Le May show. There were a smattering of various Italian exotics - Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Lancias, Maseratis, Alfa Romeos, Fiats, and even Ducatis. Sophia seemed about as impressed as she was last week.

Check out the slideshow here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online - you can check out all of the albums we've currently plowed through here.

Dinnertime!

2006-09-05T07:40:00.000-07:00

Smiling Through The Tongue
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

To get out of having to actually do any work around the house and feed Sophia, I whipped out the camera during a recent dinnertime to capture the joy of Sophia at dinnertime.

Feeding can sometimes be frustrating - the girl craves distraction and all too often likes to spit food out or play with the food in her mouth out of sheer boredom - but it can also be a lot of fun when she's hamming it up. When the camera comes out, show-off Sophia is on full display.

Check out the slideshow here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online - you can check out all of the albums we've currently plowed through here.

Fun at the Fair

2006-08-29T09:08:00.000-07:00

Sad Sophia
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

This past weekend, Leigh, Sophia, Bryanne, Kim, Chavi, and I all went to the Washington State Fair in Monroe for an afternoon packed with heat, sweat, pig races, needlepoint, tractors, and swine.

Despite the photographic evidence here, everybody had a great time, including Sophia. All I can say is that the applause preceding the pig races was a bit loud for her.

Check out the slideshow here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online, but you can look at all of our albums here.

Bryan and Sophia Say Goodbye

2006-08-29T08:57:00.000-07:00

Bryan and Sophia
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

While we held his going-away party the weekend previous, before Leigh drove him to the airport, Bryan and Sophia played and had a good time before they said goodbye.

Very, very cute.

Check out the slideshow here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online, but you can look at all of our albums here.

Daddy/Daughter Day at the Car Show

2006-08-29T08:54:00.000-07:00

Car Show Fun
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

Sophia and I went on a daddy/daughter expedition to the LeMay car show in Tacoma this past weekend. You gotta start 'em young!

She seemed to enjoy herself, despite her father's really bizarre taste in cars. Check out that pristine Ford Maverick!

Check out a slideshow here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online, but you can look at all of our albums here.

Bathtime with Baby

2006-08-29T08:52:00.000-07:00

Phia and Pooh Bear
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

It's not often I'm home from work early enough for bathtime, but last week all the stars aligned and I was home and ready to go with my replacement camera.

Sophia is just old enough now to sit in the big tub - no little plastic one for her anymore! Her cuteness doubles - squares? - in the tub, and I think you'll enjoy the photos. As an added bonus, Leigh's cousin Christofer was in attendance.

Check out a slideshow here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online, but you can look at all of our albums here.

Bryan's Going Away Party

2006-08-29T08:48:00.000-07:00

Amy strikes Blue Steel
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

Leigh's brother Bryan just left for New York City; he's attending NYU this fall. We're all sad to see him go, of course, but we took advantage of the opportunity to get everybody together for some fun.

As you can see here, Amy is all over the Zoolander Blue Steel expression. I'm still using my backup camera here, so the photos aren't fab ...

Check out a slideshow of the party here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online, but you can look at all of our albums here.

Sophia's First Birthday Party

2006-08-29T08:45:00.000-07:00

Eyes Tight Shut with Excitement
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

We celebrated Sophia's first birthday earlier this month with a bunch of family and friends. It was a little chaotic - kids everywhere! - but I think everybody had a good time. Unfortunately, the flash broke on my camera just before the party, so unfortunately some of my photos of the event are a bit dark and/or washed out.

As ever, though, Sophia is the picture of cuteness.

Check out a slideshow of the party here.

Browse the photos here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online, but you can look at all of our albums here.

Lake Crescent Trip

2006-08-29T08:39:00.000-07:00

Lake Crescent Meadow
Originally uploaded by Chris Hafner.

Last month, Leigh, Sophia, and I went out to Lake Crescent for a quasi-camping and hiking trip - and we had even more fun than we bargained for!

Check out a slideshow of our trip here.

Browse the photos here here.

We're working on getting all of our digital photos online, but you can look at all of our albums here.

Eric Allen Babysits

2006-08-04T13:28:00.000-07:00

Thu 3 Aug 06
While Dad works, Mom travels, and Grampa disappears, Phia and I have a great time getting to know each other. I discover that Sophia is the happiest baby I've ever known. Even when she stumbles, falls, and starts to cry, it doesn' take but a silly face and crazy sound effects to turn those frowns upside down. She is sheer joy.

I especially enjoy the Phia Naptime Monologues which last anywhere from 10-15 minutes before she actually lays down to sleep.

After morning nap and before lunch, I decide a walk to the park is in order. She follows me around the house to her bedroom where we gather a long sleeved shirt (just in case) and a hat. She takes it upon herself to grab the hat from my hand, places it on her head, and then rushes to the living room full of purpose. Curious, I now follow her to find that she is well on her way in a serious attempt to set up the stroller all by herself while continuously chattering about this and that.

Obviously she agrees with my decision to go to the park.

So sure I've been around since Phia first came into the world, and yes I've seen her baptized and even saw her briefly at my wedding, but today is truly a special occasion. I am blessed to have had so much time with Phia. I know today that I've made a new friend. Thanks Phia. Sorry I'll miss your birthday, but here's to a happy first! At least Tommy will be there to celebrate with you on my behalf.

A Day at the Park/ I hate this hat!

2006-07-03T20:31:00.000-07:00

Yes it was 92 degrees last Monday and yes that is sick and wrong!

Did I mention how much I hate this hat? And especially this damn strap?

I'm a little worried it looks dumb- what do you think?

Of course, I always look cute- that is beside the point.

I'm done with this thing!

Good bye!

Better- right?

Don't my Dad and I look cute together?

Stackson Interface

2006-06-27T11:18:00.002-07:00

Here is a photo montage of how most Phia-Stackson interface occurs... at least when he is sleeping, if he is awake he just runs.

I think I want to pet the kitty

Do you think it's a good idea?

Hmmm, I think I'll do it anyway...

eeeeeee! Okay, maybe not!

Cell Phone Baby

2006-06-25T19:39:00.000-07:00

Here are some cute pictures for those of you left wanting out there. My photos will not be punctuated with humorous musings- but you will get photos of the baby- hopefully more regularly. Here are some cute photos from Easter. Yes, I realize that was months ago, but beggars can't be choosers. :)
Seattle Mama

South Dakota Trip Reports will continue ...

2006-04-14T07:09:00.000-07:00

Here's Amy holding the cutest baby that has ever existed. Sorry, Amy, but it's true.

I'm sure everybody is feverishly awaiting the arrival of more South Dakota Trip Reports - they are no doubt riveting to those of you who have never been to South Dakota and don't know my family - so to tide you over and make up for my comment about my sister in the post below, here's a photo of Amy holding Sophia during the visit.

Playtime!

2006-04-14T07:03:00.000-07:00

Here are a few playtime photos that are a bit more traditional than what I posted below.

With apologies to all of the other babies, past or present, and especially to my sister, who always does a slow burn when my parents say this, but I think it can be empirically, scientifically proven that Sophia is the most adorable baby that has ever existed.

Well, when she's not making her metallic-edged shriek, that is. Think Jim Carrey in Dumb & Dumber when he asks, "Do you want to hear the most annoying sound in the world?" Then amplify his sound by a factor of 10.

But that's a story for another day.

And for those of you wondering if that open expanse of carpet is actually in our office, well, yes it is. I can understand your confusion, though, because I share it also. Who knew that once we cleared those stacks of boxes and car magazines there would be some carpet under there?!?!

The Phia Monster!

2006-04-14T06:44:00.000-07:00

Sophia is at the really active stage where she loves crawling maniacally, arms pumping and breathing fast, all the way across the room, then standing up, balancing on Daddy's prone form, and trying to crawl over him. Usually she also tries to spindle my glasses, gouge out my eyes, and reach into my nostrils as part of the same effort.

Last night I had the digital camera on hand, and using it as bait, captured point-blank (without lining up or focusing the image) her attempts to summit Mt. Hafner and reach the digital camera so she could use it as a chew toy.

By no means is this great - or even good - photography, but I find it pretty entertaining and it really captures Sophia's intensely playful mood.

South Dakota Trip Report - Sophia Meets the Family

2006-04-12T22:00:00.000-07:00

Sophia makes her first pilgrimage to the Heads along with her Grandma, her Aunt Amy, and her lame-o parents. Like, whatever!

One of the highlights of our trip back to South Dakota was Sophia meeting all of her wild and woolly relatives for the first time.

Since this will be largely a photographic exercise depicting the young one in the arms of various members of the family, I'll hold off on any further description, except to note that Sophia did her normal trick of behaving herself perfectly at major events and convincing everybody around her to completely fall in love with her.

Since I remember vividly when Cousin Lauryn was Sophia's age, it's a bit surreal to see her as a young lady holding my infant daughter. Pretty cool, but it's kinda weird how quickly time passes. Lauryn, just wait - before you know it, a grown-up Sophia will be holding and cooing over your child!

Great-Grandpa Holland and the little one share a quiet chuckle.

Grandpa Mike and Sophia engage in some rigorous intellectual discourse.

Great-Grandma Holland and Sophia hit it off right away.

A napping Sophia made copious use of Grandma Cathy's drool rag.

Uncle Joe said of Sophia "this is my favorite age!" Now that Sophia no longer sleeps through the night, that age goes down as our favorite too.

Aunt Becky has a great touch with kids - as well she should, as an award-winning teacher.

Aunt Deb and Uncle Jim shower more attention on the little one, as Leigh helpfully holds up Cousin Aaron's picture into the frame. It's almost like he was there, isn't it?

South Dakota Trip Report - Introduction

2006-04-12T21:13:00.003-07:00

A much younger Sophia takes her rightful place among the great Presidents.

I'm about to unveil a series of posts that have been nearly six months in the making. Around October of last year, the Hafner clan journeyed back to the Black Hills of South Dakota for my cousin Carol's wedding - a weekend-long spin through the homeland and through both sides of my family. Since two weeks in South Dakota isn't nearly enough time to pack in all of the fun and socializing we like to do, a weekend is such a short amount of time to reconnect that it's almost painful.

Okay, okay, here she is actually at Mt. Rushmore, not just in front of the picture at the airport. As you can see, Sophia very much enjoyed her time at this scenic National Park.

There's something about going back to South Dakota that is very special for me - after moving around a lot as a kid, the Black Hills was the one place that always felt like home. For many people, family is a burden. Not for me. For me, getting together with family is a chance for fun and relaxation. It's the one place we know we belong.

Sophia sacks out while Momma gets her caffeine fix in the airport.

Everybody in South Dakota - we enjoyed seeing you (although it was six months ago). We love you all and miss you even more intensely than before, if that's possible.

This also marked Sophia's first time on an airplane - an event we approached with much trepidation. We needn't have worried. Our worst fear - a baby who screamed and wiggled non-stop through a total of eight hours in the air, failed to come to pass. However, and fans of the poop shoot blog story should enjoy this, she reached new levels of creativity with her poop. More on that, and the trip as a whole, in later installments.

Here's Sophia with her Grandma & Grandpa Hafner, along with Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa Holland.

And, yes, I realize that these photos are six months old. She might have been smaller, but she was still cute - her screaming fit at one of America's most patriotic landmarks notwithstanding. Perhaps she just wasn't a fan of Teddy Roosevelt - he was a pretty polarizing figure.

I couldn't resist putting in another recent photo of Sophia, again with Kal Marie.

Finally ....

2006-04-09T20:47:00.000-07:00

Whoa - Daddy put a new post up on the blog!

I realize that I owe the stalwart readers of this blog (assuming there are any left) a very sincere apology. After all, I know all of you would really prefer to continue looking at Stackson surveying his flooded domain, and here I am ruining it all by putting in some new photos of Sophia.

The primary purpose of this post is to not only show off our daughter a little more, but also to let people out there know that no, we are no longer submerged or bobbing around in our basement. I suppose I could make excuses for my lack of posting, such as the rigors of parenthood, a job that keeps me wildly busy, the failed attempt to maintain some degree of contact with my friends, and trying to get back in shape. But, really, I should've posted before. My apologies.

Sophia has all of the wit, good humor, and natural charm of her mother.

So what's been going on? I hope to expand upon all of this in future posts - stop your uproarious laughter, I do hope to catch up a little with my posting - so here's just a quick summation:

- The house is dry once again, all the repair work has been done, and we've been left with a cool $10,000 bill for the whole fiasco. The drama only begins there, though - it's a sordid tale of professional negligence, legal saber-rattling, and soggy diapers that will no doubt bore you to tears once I get around to telling it.

- Leigh and I have been on a rigid exercise and diet regimen and between us have lost nearly 30 pounds. I've lost more than 20 pounds to date (trust me, I had it to lose) while Leigh is back down to her pre-baby weight.

Sophia gets jiggy with Auntie Kal Marie.

- Speaking of baby, Sophia is now eight months old and as gregarious as ever. With her gorgeous big blue eyes and sparkling personality, she's a hit wherever we go. In the space of roughly a week she mastered the art of crawling, learned how to haul herself up to a standing position, and even now is able to stand on her own without support for several seconds. She's eating solid food also; but teething is appearing to take its toll. Between the pain of teething and the developmental milestones she's flying through, she's not sleeping well, which means we're tired and edgy much of the time. But that's what parenthood is all about, right?

- We've sold the Volvo and the Valiant. Yes, sports fans, the Volvo is no longer part of the family. And to my shocked dismay, we've gone from a three-car family to a one-car family.

That's the quick and dirty update. I'll try to get more up here soon - yes, hold the belly laughs.

One other quick note - the Blogger spell check system doesn't recognize the word "Stackson" and wants to replace it with "sadism." Now that's apt.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

2006-01-30T06:15:00.000-08:00

Stackson stares in wonder at his flooded domain.

In some areas, water is the most valuable natural resource, a life-giving liquid - essential to the growing and harvesting of food and the sustainment of the human race. Water is essential to life - and as every child knows, water is the most prevalent substance in the human body.

To me, water is a hated, implacable enemy; an insidious, liquid Moby Dick to my frantic, bedraggled, Captain Ahab.

Normally, Seattleites make peace with water - in winters in which they are oppressed with months of drizzle, the choices are either accept the rain or go slowly insane. For years, I've been perfectly accepting - though not enthusiastic - in regards to rain, but recently that ambivalance has turned to hatred, frustration, and fear.

That transition may have taken place several weeks ago, after 27 straight days of rain, when I had my arm submurged up to the elbow down the driveway drain in a futile effort to claw out enough silt to allow it to flow freely. It may have been when I pumped away like an idiot on the side stairway drain with a toilet plunger, with the vain hope of dislodging some blockage that would keep water from pouring into our basement through the side door. I had been pretty sure the final transition took place two weeks ago, when I arrived home at midnight to find the entire garage under three inches of water - which I then laboriously bailed out with a green salad bowl over a period of four hours.

A damp outlook ...

Let me tell you, that was a bizarre four hours. Envision, if you will, from the perspective of one of several curious passersby at that desolate hour - a lone, forlorn figure, wearing a raincoat, heavy hiking boots, and an LED headlamp, kneeling on a blue foam pad, scooping ludicrously tiny amounts of water from the driveway into a flimsy plastic salad bowl and into a 5-gallon bucket, then grabbing the bucket, staggering up the driveway, and dumping the contents into the street, only to repeat moments later, the reflections of the water from his headlamp rippling eerily across the garage ceiling like a swimming pool roof when the underwater lights are on.

My mind began to crack, too, the more I stared down into the useless drain, wondering what was going on down there. For all I knew, the Titanic was down there, or the Loch Ness Monster. Or perhaps Loch Ness on the Titanic, bemoaning the unfair class system of the time and pining for Kate Winslett.

It's difficult to see in this photo, but after an hour of pumping, there was still standing water in most of the garage.

What really drove me nuts later was the realization that water was actually coming up out of the drain.

But, with a bit of fresh perspective, the true fulcrum of frustration came at 2:30 a.m. this morning, when I woke to hard, pounding rain and an even more insistent feeling that something was terribly wrong. I had cleared all of the water twice last night; but even so, when I ventured downstairs, I found that the entire garage was flooded five inches deep - and we were taking on standing water in our family room from both the stairway and the garage. At least it would have been standing had it not been cascading through the room with its own waves crashing on the couch and the entertainment center, and the little Stackson furballs floating around displaying the various currents at work.

Now, following the events of two weeks ago, Leigh and I had not been ignoring the problem. The day after my four-hour bailing effort with the salad bowl, I went to Home Depot and bought a spiffy little submersible pump that proved very handy in piping the water through a garden hose up to the street.

Plus, we called in Fritz, the erratic and moody woman-hating German drain genius. After snaking the two outside drains, he told us there was nothing we could do. Evidently the kitchen and the two outside drains run in a pipe through the front yard and empty into the storm drain. Unfortunately, roots had deflected the pipe, meaning the drains just emptied into the front yard - or, conversely, when the water table was high enough, the front yard drained into the driveway. Fritz advised us to dig up the front yard, reconnect the drains, and hope for the best. We couldn't afford that option and foolishly figured that as things dried up, the water table dropped, and with the help of our new pump, we'd be able to keep up with things until we hit a long stretch of dry weather and the problem went away until the next rainy season.

Huggies - ultra absorbent!

I wasn't feeling quite that sanguine this morning, as I tinkered with the pump for 45 minutes trying to get it to work while Rome burned (rather soggily) around me. You see, the pump can't operate if there's water and air mixed in either the hose or the assembly - a condition Flotec helpfully calls an airlock. Flotec includes on most of its pumps a small hole that you probe with a paper clip in the hopes of clearing out the airlock. Unfortunately, my pump wasn't one of those fortunate pumps - though the instructions clearly show the hole. So, while the waves continued to crash on the walls, and through to the family room, I dissassembled the pump, dried it all out carefully, shook out the hose, reassembled, and finally got everything to work - at which point the poor little pump began its three-hour fight against an ocean of water.

Once I knew the pump was on the job and slowly siphoning away the breakers that were crashing through to the family room, I woke Leigh for some assistance. After she calmly expressed her surprise and dismay at the situation, we began soaking up as much as we could. We rapidly went through our available towel supply - and felt slightly ludicrous doing so, because it was a bit like tossing a towel into the ocean. The towel rapidly turns dark and shiny, then floats along, bobbing in the still-robust waves. After the towels came out second-string T-shirts, then we put the absorbency of Sophia's Huggies to the test. After a rocky start, they proved their mettle.

While I bailed out the side stairwell, and the pump slowly sucked the water out of the garage, Leigh tried to soak up as much water as she could - then we began a round-robin in which we gathered up the most thoroughly soaked towels, wrung them out in the bathroom, tossed them in the dryer, and then returned them to the fray.

Huggies are made up of some funky gel, but boy does that gel absorb water ...

As of 7:12 a.m., as I write this paragraph, we finally appear to be out of the worst of it - which is the only reason I'm taking the time to write this. Leigh is back up in bed resting up for what will no doubt be a long day. The pump finally expelled all of the water out of the garage (though water continues to boil up out of the drain. The first dryer load finished, and the rejuvenated towels helped me get the rec room floor virtually dry - though I still need to finish drying some of the wiring that has been marinating behind the entertainment center, which was unplugged with severe trepidation early in the crisis.

I've already called in to work to take the day off so we can finish the cleanup and begin calling in contractors. No matter the expense this time, we're getting everything resolved - including ensuring the house gets thoroughly dry so that mold doesn't get a foothold.

And, thankfully, the rain has stopped - for now.

---

An update, as of 8:15 - it has begun to rain again, and I've had to pump twice more to keep everything clear. More updates as events warrant.

I Promised a Sophia Post ...

2006-01-29T21:52:00.000-08:00

Miss Sophia gets sporty!

And, well, the weekend got out of hand. Plus, we've had hard rain all day and the garage is about to flood - and, to boot, we just got a strange trickle of water from under the couch.

So all I can do at the moment is post this cute photo and deliver more later. But, hey - she is awfully cute!

If it Wasn't For Bad Luck ...

2006-01-27T06:59:00.000-08:00

Sophia, as usual, has been a bright spot.

There's is only time for a very brief post before I head to work, but I wanted to let everybody know that the next installments of Chris' Object of Automotive Desire may be several days in coming. You see, while we attended the Sonics game last night against the Mavericks (which the Sonics lost horribly), both my laptop and that of another Amazon colleague were stolen out of my buddy's trunk. This is the latest in a series of unfortunate events over the last several weeks for Leigh and I.

Here's what's been going on with us lately:
- The Valiant was towed. (more on this later)
- The Volvo got a flat tire. (more on this later)
- Our rec room was flooded thanks to a recalcitrant stairway drain.
- Our garage flooded multiple times thanks to a recalcitrant driveway drain (more on this later)
- After being a great sleeper at night for months, Sophia has begun waking up 4-10 times a night in the last week, screaming inconsolably. However, she makes up for it by being adorable.
- A watch we bought for Leigh on eBay (used, to save money) wound up needing very expensive repairs.
- The Sonics have been awful.
- My Amazon laptop was stolen.

But, of course, the Seahawks are in the Super Bowl, so given the unlikelihood of that particular event, I suppose the universe had to even itself out somehow. I'm just glad the sun didn't go supernova or something, just to prevent this seeming impossibility from taking place.

To be honest, I'm a little weary of vandalism. My 10-speed bike was stolen off our porch in Charlotte, and of course that was unfortunate. But since we've moved back to Seattle, we've lost our Acura Integra, the Volvo's radio and side window, and now my laptop to theft.

Grr.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 10/20

2006-01-26T14:16:00.000-08:00

Today's COoAD, the Ford RS200, is an obscure model - designed as a limited-production homologation special to legalize its counterpart Group B World Rally Car.

The Group B cars were famous in the 1980s for their high-strung, high-boost turbocharged engines and incredible (for the time) all-wheel-drive traction. Group B cars were infamous for their tendency to overwhelm even the best professional rally drivers, and several drivers were killed before Group B cars were eventually banned in favor of today's tamer World Rally Cars.

The Porsche 959 was one such example, but this one - plebian nameplate and generic looks notwithstanding - was more powerful and challenging even than the ultimate Porsche. This is one of history's all-time unknown supercars, and I've wanted one ever since I was it on the cover of an issue of Autoweek in 1985.

http://www.motorbase.com/vehicle/by-id/-294984041/gallery.ehtml
http://www.ianhardy.net/ford_rs200.php
http://www.ianhardy.net/gallery/ford_rs200
http://www.staufferclassics.com/rs200.html
http://www.isitaboat.co.uk/rally/ford_rs200/

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 1/26

2006-01-26T08:50:00.000-08:00

I'm sure we've all heard the story about the guy who, in the holy pursuit of ultimate acceleration, strapped a JATO rocket to the roof of his station wagon and promptly flattened himself against a canyon wall.
bviously this man was foolish on many levels - and fictional, to boot - because if he was after ultimate acceleration, he would have been far better off procuring an Audi RS6 posthaste.

The RS6 is one of those rare machines that has no weaknesses (save price). Its immensely powerful twin-turbo 40-valve V-8 gives it the massive torque and high-end horsepower to bend the mind, blur reality, and give the impression that, rather than accelerating forwards, you've just driven off a cliff. But the Audi, thanks to the miracle of tenacious all-wheel-drive traction, is less likely than the JATO wagon to leave the driver spread all over a canyon wall. And even if our thrill-seeker was accelerating uncontrollably towards a fiery demise, the Audi's aggressive yet subtle styling would ensure he'd look good doing it.

All RS6 models offer up a heady combination of elegance and vicious performance, but my particular favorite is the Europe-only RS6 Plus Avant - combining all of the RS6's strengths with the utility and beauty of a wagon body and an extra jolt of horsepower. The Plus has 480 twin-turbocharged horsepower with which to warp the laws of physics - for example, this heavy wagon flies to 60 mph in the 4-second range. Sir Isaac Newton would be either be extremely pleased or completely horrified - I'm not sure which.

If forced to choose one car to live with for the rest of my life, price no object, I think the RS6 Plus Avant just might have to be the car.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 10/19

2006-01-25T13:26:00.000-08:00

Time for a Mopar injection.

I've always loved Plymouth Superbirds - they have all of the ingredients to make the perfect muscle car.

Lots of power? Check - the legendary 426 Hemi.

Racing heritage? Check - this was the most legendary NASCAR ride of the day, and was the chariot of King Richard Petty for some time.

Unique styling? Check - aside from some of the Corvettes of the time, the Superbird was the only muscle car to combine sleek lines with the brutality that muscle cars so alluring.

Scarcity? Check - these were only in production for a short time and there are just a handful left today - and all of them, if they're in good shape, go for six-figure amounts.

About 15 years ago, Car & Driver did a feature on a gentleman who bought his Superbird roughly 10 years previously (so sometime in the early 1980s) for a pittance. The only problem was the paint on the roof and the ridiculously high spoiler was scuffed - you see, he'd been using the car to haul plywood, balanced precariously on the roof and the spoiler.

That's like eating lasagna off the Mona Lisa.

I'd love to have one, but these days only the serious collectors can afford one - and I doubt they get driven, which is a real pity.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 1/25

2006-01-25T13:04:00.000-08:00

The Jaguar XJ series sedans have long been symbols of a bygone era. With its delicate styling and old world interior appointments fairly dripping with wood and leather in the characteristically cramped cabin, the XJ has historically offered an elegant presence that set it apart from the pack with performance among the best in the world.
This COoAD primarily concerns the first edition, which debuted in 1968 - the prettiest, complete with an inline six as smooth as the leather hides on the seats. There was also an XJ12 available, with a hugely complex but massively torquey V-12, giving it a top speed of nearly 150 mph - making it both one of the fastest and one of the most refined motorcars available in that era.
http://www.motorbase.com/vehicle/by-id/336720283/

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 10/18

2006-01-25T11:03:00.000-08:00

Yes, I realize it's nothing more than a Chevy Vega with swoopy styling, but the Chevy Monza has long been a guilty pleasure of mine. Not only is the Monza an awfully good-looking car by 1975-1980 standards, but it made an excellent race car in IMSA racing in the capable hands of Al Holbert. Plus, since the Monza could be bought with an anemic small-block V-8, it can easily be refitted with something a lot more potent so that its performance matches its look.

Even stock, by the end of its run in 1980, the Monza was a fairly fast car by the standards of the time, topping out at more than 120 mph. The car pictured here, in Spyder trim (symbolizing a performance upgrade consisting solely of paint and stickers) , had a 3.8-liter V-6 and was all original and with just a handful of miles as of last year.

Given how difficult it is to find Monzas nowadays, given that they succumbed to rust nearly as quickly as their Vega siblings, this is a remarkably rare car.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 1/24

2006-01-25T10:54:00.000-08:00

I've always had a thing for the original Volkswagen Rabbit/Golf and the resulting GTI - for one thing, my uncle used to ice-race a yellow Rabbit with great effect in South Dakota. At an early age, he presented me with a custom-painted yellow Matchbox Rabbit with his sponsorship decals assiduously affixed (he is also a master model crafter), and from that day onwards I thought it would be awfully cool to own a Rabbit/Golf/GTI of my own.

The first-generation Rabbit/Golf was a revolutionary design - a sharply-creased replacement for the bulbous and obsolete Beetle, it incorporated the space-saving lessons learned from the original Mini into a larger design with a cavernous hatchback, crisp driving manners, and attractive Guigaro-penned lines. It was an instant hit in America and directly influenced every economy hatchback since made for this market.

The GTI was similarly seminal - it was the first mass-produced hot hatchback, offering in the dark days of the early 1980s a mighty mite performance car made fun thanks to agility, not cubic inches, and without sacrificing utiliity. The legendary GTI line has continued, finding its recent apex in the Golf R32 super-hot-hatach of several years ago, but the original still carries the most purity of line and intent.

During the car-shopping trip several years ago in which I tested the Merkur and eventually bought my beloved Malibu Wagon, I tested a GTI with the hope that I might finally own one. However, the fact that it was completely knackered, combined with a steering wheel that made my hands smell like Cool Ranch Dorito's, convinced me it wasn't the way to go. And really, that's true of all of the early GTIs - it's very difficult to find an original GTI that hasn't either been thrashed or destroyed.

Here's a great page where somebody documents their GTI rebuilding project:

http://www.gatm.com/cars/gti.html

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 10/17

2006-01-23T07:33:00.000-08:00

Funny note on this one - it was located in Tacoma, was incredibly original, and very cheap. I actually considered buying this car (this was pre-Valiant) but realized that the cost would include a failed marriage.

The original photos have expired off of eBay (though the listing remains), but this one, in blue, is basically the same car - clean, original, and lovely.

---

Another that I doubt will excite too many people, but I've wanted one of these for years!
This is the last year of the huge Caprice/Impala, and this is a rare remaining example of one that hasn't been cut up by the hip-hop crowd.

Perfection, beauty - a beige four-door 350 Caprice still all original and beautiful. Keep it stock, or drop a big block crate motor in without touching the look - either way, it's wonderful.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 1/23

2006-01-23T07:29:00.000-08:00

When the first in the line of legendary Corvette sports cars appeared in 1953, there was little to suggest the future glory of the name. Cleanly if delicately styled, with only an equally delicate six-cylinder engine to motivate it, the 1953 Corvette was more a cruiser than a bruiser; a car in which to relax, not race.

But thanks to a restyling and the magic of the small-block Chevrolet V-8, by the second generation, 1956-1957, the Corvette had hit its stride. In fact, I think the 1956-1957 Corvettes are the prettiest made during that first decade; more artistic than the bathtub-sided progenitor, and less weighed down with chrome bars and filigree as the similar but more chunky 1958-1962 models.

With its classic lines from the age of true styling individualism and V-8 power (including optional fuel injection, a rare find in 1957), the 1956-1957 Corvette and its racing derivations quickly began to dominate the sport car market and establish the marque as a true competitor to the world's finest machinery.

Nowadays, these cars are very rare and extraordinarily expensive - though I'm surprised at how inexpensive this New Braunfels car is - dual four-barrel convertible, no less.

http://www.dealsonwheels.com/search/detailbig.cfm/Autos__ID/000007-200601-000007

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 10/14

2006-01-20T09:11:00.000-08:00

This is the big one. Up to this point, I have put forth only those cars that I lust after that I figured others might also appreciate and enjoy. Why inflict anything on the team that they might not also enjoy?

But with this selection, I am baring my very soul. This selection cuts right to the quick of everything I am.

I've wanted one of these badly when I was 10 years old. I've wanted one badly ever since. I'll want one when I'm 80 years old. On some subconscious level, I wanted one when both the car and I were merely a twinkle in our designers' eyes.

Very few other people like these. They're hunchbacked, unreliable, and, by today's standards, unexceptional performers. Yet, while the other COoAD selections get my blood running hot, these get my blood boiling to a degree I can't describe within Amazon.com's decency standards.

These care are my weakness. These cars are my disease. If I had the money, I'd buy 10.

http://www.cardomain.com/ride/2111436

1986 SPG, Edwardian gray - thank you very much.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 1/20

2006-01-20T08:50:00.000-08:00

The first two generations of the Mitsubishi Eclipse/Eagle Talon were the leading lights in the sport coupe segment in the late 1980s and early-to-mid 1990s - inexpensive, attractive, and thrilling performers that could blow the doors off of 90-pound weaklings like the Ford Probe, Mazda MX-6, and Honda Prelude while keeping pace with the big-engined Camaros and Firebirds of the world.

Their blend of low prices and hyper turbo power made both generations of the Eclipse/Talon the progenitors and early mainstays of the Fast & Furious generation, but today you can find them relatively inexpensively, considering the performance available. The trick is finding one that hasn't been thrashed or cut apart by an overzealous teenager. All went south with the third-generation model, which was more refined and grown-up with a V-6, but without the hard-edged performance or clean lines that made the car special.

Sophia Gets a Job

2006-01-19T16:41:00.000-08:00

After repeated coaxing from Leigh and I, Sophia has decided to begin pulling her weight and bringing in some income.

So, during a recent visit to Washington Mutual with Leigh, she impressed the interviewers and earned a new job. Sadly, she will be making more than Leigh and I put together.

However, the IT department will likely have to chat with her about her bad habit of eating her computer's mouse.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 10/12

2006-01-19T12:18:00.000-08:00

By 1973, all the real muscle cars were dead - except for the Pontiac Firebird Trans Am SD-455. The SD stood for Super Duty, and the 455 stood for 455 cubic inches of heart-pumping V-8 power - real, brutish V-8 power in an era that double or tripled the output of its contemporaries.

With 0-60 runs in the low 5-second range despite slippery tires, the SD-455 would be a supercar even by today's standards. The SD-455 was the lone beacon of light as Detroit's proud performance tradition began to circle the bowl of the toilet of the 1970s.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 1/19

2006-01-19T11:59:00.000-08:00

When Subaru introduced its WRX, fundamentally a hot-rod, turbocharged, all-wheel drive version of its Impreza economy car, in the mid-1990s in every market except the U.S., it seemed like a travesty of justice. Here was a go everywhere, do anything car with the performance of a Corvette or a Ferrari, with the practicality and utility of a Subaru - all in a relatively subtle package that evoked the all-conquering World Rally Subaru of driver Colin McRae.

Never was the sting most painful as when Subaru introduced the Sti 22B variant to the European and Asian markets. Hyper-powerful, with enough speed and traction to run with all but the most exotic six-figure supercars, the 22B provided a nuclear weapon with the look and expense of a prison shiv.

Of course, Subaru later brought the WRX to America and even added the hyper-quick STi version, but as desirable as those cars (and they are - future COoADs) they are detuned and rather odder-looking than the 22B.

The Subaru WRX STi 22B - truly a pint-sized supercar, but never available here.

Non-car posts ...

2006-01-18T18:14:00.000-08:00

... are coming, seriously! I understand everybody wants to see the baby, and I'm working on it!

The only thing is, I want to keep the blog updated, and these are already written, so ....

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 10/11

2006-01-18T18:10:00.000-08:00

The 275 GTB/4 is one of the most lovely Ferraris ever made - and its beauty is not entirely captured by the photos. In person, this car is so lovely and pure that it can make a grown man weep.

Well ... me, anyway.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 1/18

2006-01-18T18:01:00.000-08:00

Today's Chrysler 300C Hemi is an intimidating car, with more than 300 horsepower from a bellowing V-8 blunt lines that marry elegance and brutality in the manner made popular by Armani-attired Mafia goons. But as remarkable a car as the 300C is, it was not the first Chrysler 300 to master that combination.

The 300 nameplate, resurrected several years ago for use on the front-wheel-drive 300M businessman's cruiser, has long been one of Chrysler's most famous. Decades before Chryslers sneeringly became known as the make of the K-car and the minivan, the 300 letter-series were some of America's most famous supercars - muscle cars before the term came in vogue and legendary for their elegance and their rip-roaring V-8s. In fact, the 300 series bore the very first Hemi-head Chrysler engines before the legendary 426 Hemi came into its own in cars like the Charger, Challenger, and Barracuda.

The 300C Hemi carries on the tradition well, but it owes a debt to the original 300 letter-series cars.

Here's the 1960 - one of the most popular of the letter series.
http://www.chrysler300site.com/cgibin/history.cgi?1960

A gallery of all the years of different 300s http://www.chrysler300site.com/cgibin/history.cgi

A particularly nice 1968 example - by this time more of a cruiser than a muscle car - note the Chateau St. Michelle photo (local for us Washingtonians)!
http://www.dealsonwheels.com/search/detailbig.cfm/Autos__ID/000038-200503-000002

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 10/7

2006-01-18T17:46:00.000-08:00

The Chevy II/Nova was Chevrolet's economy car of the 1960s but has become famous for the hot engines Chevrolet wedged into the nondescript small-car body - making the Chevy II/Nova a stealthy opponent. Envision a small child with the kung fu grip - a tempest in a teapot.

This particular model was blessed with the 275-horsepower Corvette 327 cubic-inch V-8 and filled the Camaro's niche before that car debuted; the later version featured the 375-horsepower, 396-cubic-inch V-8 that was used in the hottest Camaros.

In either form, the Chevy II/Nova was a legendary giant killer and to be approached with caution.

http://www.dealsonwheels.com/search/detailbig.cfm/Autos__ID/000937-200512-000014

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 1/17

2006-01-17T08:47:00.000-08:00

It should surprise absolutely nobody that a massive beige American car would keep me transfixed. And, as always, the Chevy Impala leads the field.

This one looks absolutely perfect. I especially love the great upholstery.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 10/6

2006-01-16T17:35:00.000-08:00

Another early COoAD, before I got too verbose. But, basically, the Lancia Stratos was a wild, woolly, thoroughly unrefined rally car turned sports car, with gorgeous, typically 1970s wedgy lines and a sterling motorsports pedigree.

Incredibly fast, extremely handsome. Excellent car.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 1/16

2006-01-16T17:30:00.000-08:00

Any automotive engineer will tell you that weight is the enemy of any aspect of vehicle dynamics - a heavy car will accelerate more slowly, reach a lower top speed, handle more ponderously, and get worse fuel mileage.

No automaker has preached the gospel of light weight more religiously than Lotus - and the ultimate expression of that fervor was the Lotus Seven - a long-obsolete design that yet lives on both on the street and as a dominant force in amateur racing as the Caterham Super Seven.

While the Seven looks quaint - and well it should, as it's a 48-year-old design - it weighs not much more than 1,000 - and married to a modern engines in Caterham form, the Seven boasts a power-to-weight ratio of a supercar. The straightline performance belies the Seven's antedivulian looks, making the featherweight Seven a holy terror on the racetrack and a blast on the road.

The top-of-the-line Caterham Seven comes with a 260-horsepower Cosworth four-cylinder - propelling the Seven to a claimed 0-60 time of 3.1 seconds and a top speed of 155 mph. The acceleration numbers, in particular, are world-beaters.

Just don't expect to be too comfortable or to use the Seven to give your Black Lab a ride to the vet.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 10/4

2006-01-13T16:03:00.000-08:00

The original outrageous supercar - the Lamborghini Miura SV. It's still my favorite Lamborghini.

Lots more great photos here.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 1/13

2006-01-13T16:00:00.000-08:00

In the dark days of the mid-to-late 1970s, when the Chevrolet Corvette became a fat, posh, sleazy, and slow cruiser, a machine like the 2006 Corvette Z06 would have been unthinkable.

Let's compare a 1978 Corvette to the Z06, shall we?

The 1977 Corvette, with a sub-200-horsepower V-8, struggled to do the 0-60 run in 8.8 seconds and topped out around 120 mph. For that sterling performance, easily attainable nowadays by a run-of-the-mill Hyundai, the 1977 Corvette provided, at best, fuel mileage in the mid teens.

The Z06 has 505 horsepower, does the 0-60 sprint in the mid 3-second range, and nearly breaks the 200 mph barrier. When the '77 Corvette is struggling up to 60 mph, the Z06 has already rushed through 100 mph. And the Z06 can get more than 20 mpg on the freeway.

The Z06's real competition, of course, isn't its forebears - it embarrasses the finest cars in the world. At $75,000, it may not be cheap, but it's a positive blue-plate special compared to the Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Ford GTs, and Vipers that it sprints past.

It's the fastest street Corvette ever made; the fastest street Chevrolet ever made.

Of course, the real question is what the Z06 powertrain could do under the hood of, say, a 1983 Chevrolet Malibu Wagon.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 9/30

2006-01-12T11:22:00.000-08:00

This is the very first COoAD, and still one of my favorites. I was vastly less verbose then - I just started out with a link - but in this case I think it'll suffice if I say that the BMW 3.0CS/CSL was in my opinion one of the prettiest BMWs ever made. Its lean, spare lines look modern even today.

I'd love to have one of these.

Click below for a whole page of scrumptious photos. But beware - like a variety of addictions, looking at a few of these photos will only leave you unsatisfied and wanting more.

http://lalacars.com/bmw74~3.0.html

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - 1/12

2006-01-12T10:57:00.000-08:00

At the prodding of Shane and John, I've bumped up the Merkur XR4Ti and its hot-rod English twin, the Ford Sierra Cosworth, into today's slot from its position in the queue.

Thanks to a combination of a weird name, poor marketing, curiously bulbous looks (which, of course, I find irresistible), the versatility but odd looks of a hatchback, and a unique biplane rear wing that seemed awfully cool to me as a nine-year-old, the Merkur was looked upon by the American market much as townsfolk look at Frankenstein - as a bizarre, deformed, hideous monster to be approached only with great caution and, preferably, torches and pitchforks.

In Europe, however, the Sierra Cosworth was a hero car - comfortable, sexy, fast, and with a rich competition pedigree that bolstered Ford's European performance heritage for years.

A few years ago, I nearly bought a Merkur XR4Ti. It was listed in the Charlotte Observer for $1,200. The owner said it hadn't been driven, registered, or inspected for a year or two; the engine sounded as if the oil sump as full of gravel; and the exhaust was festively streaked with white smoke, legacy, no doubt, of a variety of blown seals or gaskets.
But even in that horrific shape, the Merkur was very quick - the turbo spooled up rapidly, and the car leapt forward with a surprising haste. Even on completely knackered shocks, it still handled well. Had I had more money for maintenance, I may very well have bought that Merkur - and probably thoroughly hated them today.

Chris' Object of Automotive Desire - Introduction

2006-01-12T09:48:00.000-08:00

Over the last three months or so, I've been sending a daily e-mail to the auto team pointing out exotic, rare, or, more often, hideously ugly cars I like.

Yes, this is surprising dedication from a guy who updates his blog roughly three times a year. But I figured - as long as I'm already doing the work, why not post it here, to annoy the people who don't care at all about cars and just want to see baby pictures?

So starting today, I will begin a (hopefully) daily process of posting my daily COoAD here. I'll also post the original COoADs here until I'm all caught up. Beware - there will be references to co-workers and their tastes in the e-mails, since I don't really have time to rewrite these every day for the blog. But I trust that their general sense of disgust and indignation at the garbage I like will be the case here as well.

Merry Christmas!

2005-12-24T18:37:00.000-08:00

Here's wishing everybody a Merry Christmas, and a better new year for the SuperSonics.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

This may look somewhat familiar ...

I hope everybody is having a terrific Christmas Eve and an even better Christmas tomorrow. And for those of you who don't celebrate Christmas, I hope you have a spectacular weekend anyway. For those of you who don't want to have a spectacular weekend, well, fine - be that way.

Here was our first alternate ...

And, for everybody's enjoyment, here's our Christmas card picture and some of the out-takes from that photo session.

Outtakes ...

Baptism

2005-12-21T21:56:00.000-08:00

Sophia doesn't look especially happy about it, but she was recently baptized into the Catholic religion.

Sophia was baptized at Assumption Catholic Church in Seattle on Oct. 30. That was a ridiculous amount of time ago, so this post will be more of a filler between photos rather than anything unique or special in its own right.

Parents, godparents, and new baptizee pose for photos - of course, they're all looking in different directions.

I will say, however, that not only was it wonderful to get our friends and family (at least those reasonably local to Seattle) , and very special to see Godfather Kevin Robertson and Godmother Karen Evans (other Godmother Erica FitzRoy was unable to attend, having recently moved to South Carolina) officially take up their already unofficially cemented positions as major influences in our daughter's life, but the moment itself carried unexpected power.

The Hafners also can't decide where they're looking - but they sure are having a good time!

I'm not even Catholic, preferring a more Protestant-oriented faith, but it was an amazing moment. Thanks to all who participated in what was another wonderful moment in Sophia's young life.

The Miller side of the family - in color!

And for those of you who couldn't be there, we were thinking of you - and eating enough pastries and snacks to represent you.

Many thanks to Eric and Tommy for providing the black-and-white photography.

Valiant Folly

2005-12-18T17:12:00.000-08:00

Back to nature - the Valiant in the previous owner's backyard.

If one were to compile a list of what our family needs the least, a debilitating flesh-eating disease would probably rank at the top. An unreliable, barely running, deeply flawed 1973 Plymouth Valiant would probably appear only a few lines down the list.

So, of course, that's exactly what I went out and got. And yes, in addition to our 2003 Honda Accord and scabrous old 1986 Volvo 240DL, we have a 1973 Valiant. This is three cars for a family in which only one car gets driven.

Those of you who have known me for some time are familiar with my fascination with both weird turbocharged European sports coupes of the 1980s (think Saab) and mediocre American sedans of the 1970s. There are few 1970s American sedans more relentlessly mediocre than a '73 Valiant.

Admittedly, my tastes run more to something like an AMC Matador X or a massive '76 Chevrolet Impala, but neither were as readily accessibly as the '73 Valiant, which was offered to me free by a co-worker, who had been storing the Valiant in his back yard along with several vintage Subaru BRATs.

Five blocks into my drive home with the free new car, I started thinking that perhaps I had overpaid. Aside from the exhaust fumes pouring into the cabin, and the loud but powerless chug-chug-chugging of the clearly out-of-tune 225-cubic inch Chrysler Slant Six, the Valiant began displaying a rather diverting habit of stalling in the middle of intersections. With a combination of profuse cold sweat, full throttle, and power dumps with the three-speed automatic, we somehow managed to limp home at a maximum of 40 mph. Since that time several weeks ago, thanks to its untrustworthiness, I've driven the car roughly five miles.

In this way, the Valiant is rather different than the subject of my last old-car fling - my dearly beloved and much-lamented 1983 Chevrolet Malibu Wagon, which owned my heart for years before it was pried away from my protesting grip by Leigh. She insisted that two drivers didn't need three cars. Perhaps not, but now we're up to three cars again - and now instead of the reliable, trustworthy 'Bu, we have a car that makes the 300,000-mile Volvo look like a high-powered, futuristic European sports car. Plus, now that I take the bus to work, we're down to one driver for those three cars.

When I've told people about our new Valiant, they invariably give me the same pitying, slightly incredulous look normally reserved for an eight-year-old who set fire to his parents' house.

To answer their invariable first question, no, I have no idea what I'm going to do with it. The drivability problems likely stem from a dirty and worn carburetor, and the exhaust leak is probably a result of a cracked exhaust manifold. The only problem is that, with a one-car garage, we have neither a place to keep the Valiant nor a place to work on it.

At least, we didn't until our friends Kim and Chavi went mildly insane and offered up their two-car garage to the Valiant so that both Leigh and I could tinker with it there. You see, Leigh has wanted for some time to become an automotive mechanic, and for all of my automotive love and knowledge, I don't have the foggiest idea of how to change the oil. Given that the Valiant was hopelessly out of date when it was made in the early 1970s, this blunt object is the ideal subject on which we can learn.

So, as soon as I screw up my courage to limp the Valiant down to their house, we'll begin a regime of changing the fluids, belts, hoses, and filters. Then the plan is to swap out the carburetor, intake manifold, and exhaust manifold with a similar but slightly more advanced two-barrel carburetor unit, ironically named the "Super Six," from a late 1970s Aspen/Volare. The Aspen/Volare, of course, were truly awful cars in their own right.

The current carb is a single-barrel unit - just for a bit of perspective, most performance cars of the era used four to six barrels. The Slant Six is a fairly gutless but willing engine, but saddling it with a single-barrel carburetor is like forcing a child to drink a thick milkshake through a coffee stirring straw.

I found a road test of a 1974 Valiant Brougham (given that the Valiant was the equivalent of a Dodge Neon, the name was a bit of a contradiction in terms) , in which Car & Driver flogged the 105-horsepower Valiant from 0-60 in 13.8 seconds. With a lot of work and expense, the two-barrel conversion might solve all of the car's problems and pump the engine up to roughly 120 horsepower - in a still-disheveled, worthless car. If that works, I may just splurge and buy a ridiculously undeserved "Screaming Chicken" Pontiac Trans-Am hood decal for the Valiant.

Either that, or I'll come to my senses and just pawn off the Valiant on some other sucker. The jury's still out.

The Screaming Chicken would look awfully nice on the Valiant's hood.

So How Are Leigh and Sophia?

2005-12-18T16:33:00.000-08:00

Sophia and Leigh dance along to Survivor's Eye of the Tiger.

"Enough about you and your excuses, Chris," I can hear you all saying. "How are the two worthies of the family doing?"

It's a fair question. After all, the last time I posted anything, Sophia was roughly half as old as she is now. And since we last chatted electronically, Leigh officially left her job and began working part-time to support the real estate endeavors of our friend Kim.

Well, Sophia is now nearly four and a half months old, and as of two weeks ago she weighed 14.5 pounds and was 25.5 inches long. This means that if she stopped growing today for the rest of her life, she would be more than 2 feet tall, which in my mind is an important hurdle.

According to the doctor, her various measurements place Sophia at the 97th percentile for size at her age, while she is at the 90th percentile for the circumfrence of her head. This of course means that Sophia is much larger than most girls her age; however, we've chosen to interpret this as confirmation that Sophia is superior in every way to 97 percent of other babies.

How big is she? Sophia, at four months old, is now wearing primarily clothes made for babies 6-9 months old and has grown out of at least one 6-9-month outfit.

Last week Sophia mastered the ability to roll both from her front to her back and vice versa; so while she isn't yet exercising that ability very often, it's not totally impossible that she could wake up one morning and hit roughly 150 RPM in rolling from one end of the house to another.

Fun With Slow Shutter Speeds - 500-mph Sophia!

One more sobering accomplishment is Sophia's increasing drool and gum pain, ushering in the beginning of teething. She is now in the throes of it, and what would otherwise be long nightly sleeps are now disrupted by her waking up wailing with gum pain. Her hand-eye coordination improves daily, so now she is generally able to grab her teething beads and put them into her mouth the right way. She doesn't always do well at it - sometimes she grabs the beads and slaps herself in the head a few times with them before getting them under control.

She can't yet stand completely without assistance, but if you give her the help of a little steadying, she's more than strong enough to sit up and stand on her own. She has a beautiful little voice and has begun chattering happily away with nonsense, although such outbursts normally are the prelude to something a little more stormy.

She is advancing so quickly that I expect to come home one night in the next month or two and hear her greet me while she's downstairs tinkering with the car.

One minor hiccup came when Leigh and I tried to take Sophia to her first Sonics game - unfortunately, an NBA game is just a little loud for an infant.

Leigh is doing exceptionally well. She was worried that she wouldn't be a good Mom, but as I kept telling her, she's simply astounding - a much better mother than I am a father. She mothers with a mix of unflappable, dry humor and patience - and that's when she's dealing with her wayward husband. She's even better with the kid.

Those who have known us for some time will be surprised - nay, shocked - to learn that Leigh has become something of a chef. Once upon a time, my ability to scramble eggs and cook Macaroni & Cheese made me the culinary expert in the house. No more. Now when I come home, Leigh invariably has an irresistible dish on the stove and ready to serve. Aside from a little phobia about cooking chicken - something dating back to a particularly traumatic dish we tried to concoct back in Charlotte - she's simply amazing. And, since she listens to NPR all morning while I flip to the sports pages, she's also much smarter than I am.

Not that that - or the fact that I'm hugely fortunate to be blessed with the two of them - is exactly news. My next post will reveal just how tolerant Leigh is of her slightly deviant husband.

The city of Seattle is beginning to buzz about Leigh's new, peculiar growth.

Finally, A New Post

2005-12-17T11:55:00.000-08:00

I'd love to blog more often, but I just can't tear myself away from Sophia. Look at that smile - can you blame me?

Those few people who still bother to check this site, yes, rub your eyes and do a double take, there is finally a new post. I will endeavor to give it the same level of trite and banal content that has characterized my previous posts on The Hafner Three.

Evidently - and this comes as a major surprise, since I haven't heard about it more often than three or four times per day - this blog hasn't been updated for some time. Frankly, I'm a little stung by the very idea that people could be tired of looking at the side of my Dad's head.

So why is this the first post in nearly two months? Well, the problem isn't that there hasn't been anything going on or nothing to say. The problem is that there has been an awful lot going on, not all of it has been particularly newsworthy, and we've been terrifically busy racing around to keep from falling any farther behind than normal.

Part of it is my new job and the frantic schedule I've been keeping there. The other part, well, I think I'll blame on my four-month-old daughter. That's good parenting, isn't it?

It's not exactly news that babies take constant attention. We knew that going in, but we hadn't imagined exactly what it means to be in that state for several months without the ability to take a real break.

What really sneaks up on you is how constant that attention needs to be. Now that Sophia is active and alert, a parent charged with caring for her is fortunate to have five or ten minutes in a four-hour stretch to be able to do anything else. And I'm not talking about breaking away to relax and decompress - you know, hang out with friends, play games, or read a good book. That 5-10 minutes had better be used to shower, eat, use the restroom, pay bills, or do laundry - or you'll be stinky and hungry all day long.

The weekdays are especially tough. By the time I get home from my 11-hour workday, I'm exhausted; but Leigh is completely wiped out after caring for Sophia all day by herself and running the household. When I get home, I take over primary baby duty while she gets things done around the house. The result is that when we both collapse around 1- p.m., both of us are thoroughly exhausted and lucky to have been able to keep up with life's demands, much less have time to do anything fun.

Things are slightly easier on the weekends, when one of us can assume Sophia duty while the other bustles around and accomplishes. And it's not as if spending time with her is especially tough duty, since she's amazingly good-tempered. Her throaty laugh is the most beautiful noise in the world, and we've both fallen in love with her impish little grin. She's quick to do both when you tickle or sing to her. She loves to hold and grip items, and does very well in groups of people where she can just watch and listen. But if you set her down, even in her vibrating, massaging, musical chair - something both of us wish was offered on an adult scale - she'll be crying and demanding attention five to 10 minutes later.

But just to illustrate how difficult it can be, even on a weekend, I began determinedly writing this blog post Saturday morning, kept hammering away at it through the day when I had a moment, and as I'm writing this it's 4 p.m. Sunday afternoon. I've been typing a few words and then breaking away to calm Sophia, give her a new toy, retrieve the toy, retrieve it again, retrieve it once again, put her in the swing, give her the pacifier, change her diaper, give her something to gum on ... it's just a never-ending process, and you have to be creative and keep coming up with new things to keep her interested and distracted. And this is with a remarkably well-behaved and happy baby.

The never-ending vigilance necessary reminds me the implacable robotic enemies of science fiction lore - the ever-adapting Borg in the Star Trek world, or the remorseless killer of Terminator fame.

To paraphrase Reese in the original Terminator, "You still don't get it, do you?! She can't be bargained or reasoned with! It doesn't matter to her what you're doing! She doesn't feel pity or remorse! She'll continue to eat, poop, and cry - that's what she does! That's all she does! You can't stop her! And she will not stop, not ever, until she is 18!"

So, you see, it's really Sophia's fault I haven't posted anything in two months. After all, it's not as if any of you have known me to be at all lazy when it comes to keeping in touch, right?

"You can't stop her!"

Blast From the Past

2005-10-20T18:00:00.000-07:00

Grandpa Mike with Chris back in 1976.

Grandma Cathy just sent an arresting pair of photos to me today: the first is of my Dad holding me as a baby back in 1976, and the second is of him holding Sophia two weeks ago.

Once you get past how little Dad has changed (though we miss the sideburns, Dad!), it seems a little frightening just how much baby Sophia looks like baby Chris. We even have the same expression on our faces!

Poor kid - here's hoping she starts looking more like her mother soon.

Also, coming soon is a multi-part description of our exploits in South Dakota. I promise descriptions of chilly morning runs, wedding table dancing, odes to the beauty of fast-food Mexican fare, and one of the smallest but most entertaining car shows on record. Keep watching this space!

Grandpa Mike with Sophia in 2005 - look familiar?

Four Generations

2005-10-06T21:53:00.000-07:00

Four generations of Miller - aren't they lovely?

Sophia recently had a chance to meet her Great-Grandmother Mae, Leigh's father's mother. The lucky little tot will next be in line to meet her Great-Grandparents on my side - my mother's parents. I imagine she will commemorate the event like she did the previous one - by looking awestruck for a few minutes, then perhaps spitting up.

You see, we're heading back to beautiful South Dakota for the weekend for my cousin Carol's wedding. In what promises to be a weekend of uncontrolled mayhem, marked by exhausted joy, we will introduce Sophia to all of my family on both sides, attend an eagerly awaited wedding, and stumble home. Given that we leave the house tomorrow morning at 4 a.m. and arrive late Sunday night, I think it's safe to say that I'll be a shell of a man at Amazon on Monda.

Even more of a shell than usual, I suppose. But nevertheless, we're looking forward to this weekend, if not, perhaps, what promises to be a chaotic set of airplane flights.

Yes, We're Still Alive

2005-10-05T20:40:00.000-07:00

Sophia lives much of her life in frenzied excitement.

Here in the Hafner Three recently all has been silence - broken only my the lonely howl of the wind and the passage of the occasional tumbleweed. Such has not been the case with us lately. In fact, our lives have been almost frantically busy, leading to the near-total neglect of the blog.

I'm in the middle of Week 3 at Amazon.com, which to this point has been a terrific professional experience filled with extremely talented people, limitless resources, and dizzyingly lofty expectations and potential. I'm enjoying every second of my 11-hour-long days there.

At home, Leigh is doing about as well as could be expected considering an almost total lack of adult contact. She left Washington Mutual for good last week and has been doing a terrific job nurturing Sophia at home. She's even been cooking - a fact that has reduced mot people who know her to stunned silence. And what's more, she's really good at it.

Seattle's youngest Mariner ponders a disappointing 2005 season. Perhaps with her in the outfield in 2006, things will be different.

Then there's Sophia - the little one around whom everything revolves at the moment. It's hard to express in words what she's like. We named her Sophia because we felt it was a beautiful name, but it is thoroughly inadequate to the task of describing her as an entity - a beautiful musical note would be far more fitting.

She's just radiant, beautiful, and a far better kid than we had any right to hope for. She has been sleeping semi-consistently through the night, she cries fairly seldom for a two-month-old, and generally has a cheerful, happy disposition. There's nothing she likes better than to gaze upwards at a parent, coo happily, and thrash her legs and arms as if she was mastering the art of boxing from atop a mountain bike.

I don't think I'm overstepping when I say that Sophia is, empirically, the cutest child in history.

The little one is not so little at the moment - as of a week ago, she weighed more than 11 pounds and was 23 inches long, which means that as of today, a day short of her two-month birthday, she has outgrown virtually all of her 0-3 month outfits and fits perfectly into her 3-6 month clothes. This is a big girl.

She enjoys being sung to - so far she appears to prefer classic rock with strong hooks, along the lines of Led Zeppelin, The Cream, Jimi Hendrix ... although for whatever reason the two go-to songs for her are "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey and "Push It" by Salt-n-Pepa.

"Don't Stop Believing," in particular works wonders with her - also known around the house as "Don't Stop Your Feeding" and "Wake Up Sophia." She's also been known to fall asleep with her back to Daddy's chest as they watch episodes of the original Star Trek together.

Even more encouraging is the fact that two pitiful failures in the early fight to keep Sophia happy - the swing and the pacifier - are money now.

This is not to say that all is sunshine and roses with Sophia. She is rather jealous of time and attention - set her down for even a moment, and the storm clouds begin to gather. When in a bad mood, she can be an imperious little strumpet with a voicebox made of broken glass and impossible to calm. Sometimes while we know intellectually that she is vastly more cheerful than we have any right to expect from a newborn, that doesn't mean much when you're exhausted, weary of holding her in the exact position in which she likes to be held, and just want her to stop crying.

Frustration quickly dissipates when she smiles, though - a little trick she's begun to exercise with more frequency in the last week or two. She also coos and waves her arms around enthusiastically, and all of these things in combination are so adorable that any ice in your heart melts immediately. She's adorable and incredibly good-spirited and has begun to develop a range of emotions more broad than:
1) Cry
2) Emotionless
3) Cry
4) Scream

Among our nausea-inducing cutesy nicknames for 'Phia are: Kiddamus, Wiggleworm, Mrs. Wigglesworth, Snugglebug, and Sugglebunny. She will no doubt loathe all of them when she's older.

In all, we feel as if things are going pretty well. We no longer feel out of depth, which is probably just a signal that we're about to move into a new phase in which we'll once again be figuring things out as we go. I do think it's rather ironic (and perhaps unfair) that the most technically difficult and exhausting stage of parenthood comes right at the beginning, when the parents are both clueless and exhausted.

All things told, up to this point I think we've done rather well - thanks largely to having a terrific and patient kid, and Leigh having really stepped up her game.

Hopefully we can wedge in more updates as events warrant, but at the moment spare time is a precious - and often unavailable - commodity.

Unfortunately, Sophia has already grown out of her Mariners outfit.

Baby Blotter

2005-09-04T21:45:00.000-07:00

Sophia greets the world.

None of this is especially fresh news, but I figured it might be interesting to get Sophia's first-month timeline written out and published. Besides, I need a lot of text into which I can insert random but important photos of our young daughter. Enjoy the photos, because I doubt anybody will actually read through all of this.

Oct. 2004 - None of Your Business
Nothing to see here. Move along.

Sophia, starting to calm down a tad.

Nov. 26, 2004 - Leigh Finds Out
Prompted by some eyebrow-raising aches and pains, Leigh urinates on a tiny stick and discovers that she is pregnant - which for my money is just a really strange methodology for learning that you're pregnant. Her first order of business is trying to decide whether she should be ecstatic or really freaked out. She settles on both.

After work - during which co-worker and friend Chavi cheerfully regales Leigh with tales about all the bratty kids she dealt with over Thanksgiving - Leigh drives to Yakima to meet up with me and the rest of her family. Inexplicably, she doesn't say a word about it to me, instead allowing my to spend the majority of the night in blissful ignorance playing "Risk" with her brother Bryan and cousin Christofer. I lose badly.

Sophia gets her first bath.

Nov. 27, 2004 - Chris Finds Out
The next morning, Leigh and I work on a puzzle in Linda's kitchen by ourselves while the rest of the family watches television in the family room. Leigh begins to tell me the shocking news by buttering me up.

"I have a secret that needs to be kept, but I'm not sure if I can trust you to keep it," she says sweetly, impressing me with both her need for absolute tight-lipped secrecy and her accurate assessment of my secret-keeping abilities.

Upon receiving my quizzical assent to her demands, she hands me a sweet card that reads, "Times, they are a changin' - congratulations, Daddy!"

Sophia luxuriates in her first bath.

As I look, thunderstruck, from the card to her weakly smiling, mildly freaked-out face, Christofer walks casually into the room and begins making small-talk. With Leigh's demands for absolute secrecy still reverberating in the otherwise empty container of my skull, I immediately stifle all emotion.

An hour later, I am still searching for the opportunity to get Leigh alone to chat - or to show and/or release emotion of any kind - when I get the idea to create that opportunity by heading to the supermarket for groceries. Leigh quickly agrees to come along, when Christofer, seemingly hell-bent on maintaining his sadistic tyranny over any conversation between Leigh and I on this topic, cheerfully volunteers to tag along.

Amazingly, several teeth-gritting hours later, Leigh and I finally get a chance to chat and to share our excitement and fear; hopes and worries; and general levels of emotional decay.

Sophia and Mommy get some quality time.

Nov. 29, 2004 - Confirmation
Leigh visits the doctor, who confirms that she is, indeed, pregnant. Excitement and general freaked-out levels continue to rise.

Mommy and Phia cuddle a little.

Dec. 1, 2004 - Crippling Gas
Leigh begins several consecutive months of "terrible" gas and constipation that wreak havoc with her well-digestive being.

Yes, I ran this past her before publishing. In fact, Leigh insisted I publish this comment, saying she wanted to "raise the brown veil" on the trials of pregnancy.

Sophia gets a little shut-eye.

Dec. 4, 2004 - Lyle Finds Out
Leigh runs into her Dad at Tidefest in Gig Harbor and tells him she's pregnant. Much merriment ensues.

Grandpa Lyle has an excellent rapport with Sophia.

Dec. 5, 2004 - The Hafners Find Out
My father, in town for business, stands in our basement and looks skeptical while, in the middle of conversation, I invent some fictional pretext to get my Mom on the phone. When I finally make the big announcement, my Dad gives the biggest grin I've ever seen. However, on Mom's end, all I hear was screeching, wailing and sobbing, followed by a near-traffic accident. Sister Amy is similarly pleased.

The newest Hafner joins the clan.

Feb. 2005 - Morning Sickness
After escaping her first trimester without any morning sickness, Leigh spends virtually the entire fourth month vomiting.

Mother and baby.

Feb. 17, 2005 - Got the Hives
Leigh begins to break out into a strange rash but avoids going to the doctor, reasoning that if she ignores the problem that it'll go away. Amazingly, this well-reasoned medical approach doesn't work. Leigh winds up getting a full-blown, head-to-toe case of the hives - and a severe talking-to from her doctor.

Bryan bonds with his niece.

Feb. 23, 2005 - It's a Girl!
We go in for the major ultrasound and blood tests, and find that our baby is healthy, evidently enjoys kicking her mother's innards black and blue, and is of the female persuasion. The ultrasound technician confirms this by taking a picture of Sophia's, um, undercarriage and typing "GIRL" next to her, well, parts. Her subtlety was appreciated.

Bryanne gets to know her ... second cousin? Cousin twice removed?

April, 2005 - Gargantuan Baby?
The doctor throws us for a loop by informing us that our baby is not only incredibly large for her age but that she will likely be ready to pop out within a month. All of this proves be thoroughly wrong, and in fact the doctor doesn't remember telling us any of that at the next appointment.

The first bath at home was a little traumatic.

May 15, 2005 - Showering Madness
In a moment of madness, we decide to eschew the idea of a series of traditional baby showers, opting instead to just have a bunch of friends over for barbecue, beer, and a casual good time. Despite a rainy day, more than 80 people show up, thoroughly freak out the cat, and give so generously that Sophia will be vastly better-dressed than her parents during her first three years of life.

Quality time with Mommy.

June 11, 2005 - Chris Gets Old
I turn 29. Hooray.

That hat never stays on.

July 4, 2005 - Birth of the Blog
I get the incredibly sharp idea of building a blog to keep everybody updated on baby and other Hafner happenings. Of course, that gets a little more difficult when I don't regularly update it.

Daddy and Phia regard each other warily.

July 5, 2005 - Birth Imminent?
I write in the blog that "blast-off" might be "imminent." It isn't.

"Gurgle."

July 6, 2005 - Bags are packed
Feeling that birth is right around the corner, we pack the bags for the hospital and begin readying the car for the drive to the hospital - a drive that would never actually take place.

Sophia gets thoughtful.

July 8, 2005 - Bedrest
After Leigh refuses to see a doctor about her increasingly blotchy right arm ("It'll go away if I ignore it," she said), the doctor notices the arm in a subsequent appointment, diagnoses high blood pressure, and puts Leigh on immediate bedrest. Leigh, of course, subsequently spends very little time resting and even less time in bed.

More ominously, however, the doctor warns Leigh to beware of a "sense of impending doom." Um, OK.

Linda compares outfits with Sophia.

July 9, 2005 - Birthday and visit
Leigh celebrates her 29th birthday with a visit to the Swedish birthing suites. We are told that we will be kept in triage for up to three hours upon admission before we are transferred to a birthing suite. We pout, but in actual point of fact we will wind up sitting in triage for roughly five minutes before being wheeled rapidly into a birthing suite.

Sophia's still not sure about baths.

July 18, 2005 - Dilation Nation
After a doctor's appointment in which Leigh was told she was 1 centimeter dilated and 50 percent effaced, the doctor adds that there is a 30 percent chance Leigh will give birth within days. "We are well and truly in the home stretch now," I write. The home stretch is actually nowhere within sight.

Yo yo yo ... Sophia flashes gang signs.

July 20, 2005 - Be Surprised
I write in the blog, "I would not be surprised if Sophia joined us soon." She does not.

Erica visits with the girls.

July 27, 2005 - Due Date
Due date arrives, and nothing happens - unless you count us bouncing off the walls in anticipation.

Stackson meets the newest member of the family.

July 29, 2005 - Ewww
Leigh blows her mucus plug and winds up with some bloody show. This grotesque sign is supposed to mean that Leigh will be giving birth in the next day or two. "We appear to be close," I write. We are not close.

Sophia likes to suck on Mommy's finger.

July 31, 2005 - Dead Baby Scare 2005
A quiet morning is interrupted when Leigh remarks that she hadn't felt Sophia move in some time. I assure an increasingly panicky Leigh that everything is fine and refer to the baby books for reassurance. After paging through alarming sections regarding stillbirth and mothers who have to carry and deliver long-dead babies, I eventually find the correct section - which recommends we instantly head to the emergency room to receive emergency treatment in the hope that our ailing baby "can still be revived."

The freaking-out begins in earnest and continues until, powered by her mother's surging adrenaline, Sophia resumes her normal schedule of tenderizing her mother's internal organs. Leigh and I collapse into a sweaty, twitching pile of nerves.

Sophia gets squinty.

Aug. 2, 2005 - Still no baby
The endless waiting leaves us numb and a bit loopy - to the point where I publicly compare Sophia to a toy one might purchase with cereal box UPCs.

Grandma Cathy holds Sophia.

Aug. 4, 2005 - Bizarre Cervix
The doctor, puzzled, discovers that Leigh is four centimeters dilated and, thus, past the first stage of labor. In attempting to describe why Leigh is not actually having contractions or, you know, a baby, the doctor posits that Leigh's cervix is "really messed up."

That's the medical term, of course.

Linda and Bryanne say hello.

Aug. 6, 2005 - The Big Moment
At 9 p.m., Leigh and I agree to meet downstairs to watch some TV in an hour. Twenty minutes later, Leigh feels a sharp, stabbing pain that she initially ascribes to gas. Breaking water and the onset of 40-second-long contractions, beginning two minutes apart from one another, quickly give the lie to that theory. In fact, the length, intensity, and frequency of the contractions begin to convince me that we are well beyond the first stage of labor - and that we need to get to the hospital immediately, if not sooner.

Leigh, howling with crippling pain, instructs me to put the salad dressing in the refrigerator, close the windows, finish sending e-mail, and in general to tidy up the place before we go.

Unfortunately, my plans to careen wildly through the city in the "panic drive" to the hospital are soon dashed. Leigh can't stay in the car during her contractions, no matter what we do with the seats. After three tries, we make it to the top of the driveway.

At the top of the driveway, Leigh cries, "I want the drugs!" She doesn't get a chance to get the drugs.

Somebody's sleepy ...

As Leigh's contractions continue to build, and with visions of delivering my child on the front lawn dancing in my head, I call an ambulance ("But we don't know if insurance will cover it," protests Leigh). Instead, firefighters inexplicably arrive - it's not as if we need to hose Leigh down - and they call an ambulance.

As Leigh is screaming and moaning in the back of the ambulance, the paramedics pepper her with questions that she can't answer, while I ride in the front, making small talk with the driver. Leigh tries not to push, since she feels she could give birth at any time.

At the hospital, we are faced with a bemused triage nurse who apparently regards the ambulance drama as just another mother freaking out. Her scornful mien disappears when she gives Leigh a quick check and discovers that where she expected a partially-dilated cervix, there is now a baby's head. The doctor barely arrives in time to catch the baby.

Labor started around 9:45 p.m. at home. We arrived at the hospital at 11:00 p.m., and our darling baby Sophia was born at 11:27. She was 8 pounds, 15 ounces, and 19 inches long - with an adorable purple face with massive fatty jowls.

I still thank God that I didn't have to deliver that baby on the driveway.

Aug. 7, 2005 - Anniversary
Half an hour after birth, we celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary. Leigh chose to observe the moment by acting incredibly exhausted, while I simulated excitement. We each got a few hours of sleep before visitors came.

Soon, however, it was time for me to step up to the plate for baby's first diaper change. Unfortunately, I struck out badly.

For those unaware with the inner workings of baby stool - and how sadly ignorant those people are - the first few baby poops after birth are a hellish substance known as meconium. It is a black, tarry substance simply impossible to remove.

Meconium owned me in that first diaper change. The combination of my inexperience, the viscosity of this awful substance, and a wiggly baby conspired to get tarry poop all over baby's clothes, her still-healing belly button, her changing table, and me. I went through a full container of baby wipes finally getting her cleaned up and was a shell of a man when it was all done.

Aug. 8, 2005 - Coming Home
Feeling fairly confident in our abilities to parent, we left the hospital at roughly 5 p.m. ready to being our life at home together. Isn't life grand?

Eight hours later, after escalating screaming, fever, and dehydration - and that just from Leigh and I - we were back in the hospital, in the emergency room.

Kevin and Jessica meet Sophia.

Aug. 9, 2005 - Back in the Hospital
Our depressing hospital stint began with the baby getting formula to assuage her immediate needs, and Leigh getting an uncomfortable cot and a shared room with an edgy family dealing with a heavily jaundiced baby. I was sent home, but Linda, Lyle and I eventually made it back into the hospital to help support a thoroughly exhausted Leigh.. Poor little Sophia got an IV drip, a spinal tap, and a temporary urine catheter.

Many round-the-clock nights of feeding, crying, and diaper changing began - and, again, that's not even taking into account Sophia's needs.

Sophia gets open-mouthed.

Aug. 11, 2005 - Back Home, Redux
We gratefully return home, and this time it sticks. Linda stays for several days, and then my mother arrives to help us out.

Aug. 11 is also remarkable for Sophia's remarkable poop blast.

Lyle gets some good time with the baby.

Aug. 15, 2005 - Sweat Lodge
We had been told by the doctor to keep an eye on Sophia's temperature, so we noted with some alarm a precipitous drop in her temp. Despite sweltering temperatures, we geared her up in several layers of clothes and a hat to keep her core temperature up - but all this did was produce a very sweaty and grumpy baby with a low core temperature.

On Aug. 15, after several days of this, we finally got the bright idea to test the thermometer on me. According to the thermometer, I was more than a degree under temperature - meaning that thanks to a defective thermometer, we'd been sweating our baby out for no particular purpose. Considering our recent hospital stay resulting from baby dehydration, we were .... somewhat frustrated with this revelation.

Aug. 19, 2005 - Growing Girl
Heading back in to see the doctor, we learn that not only had Sophia already regained all of her birth weight, forging into the 9-pound range, but she had grown to 22 inches long.

Aug. 22, 2005 - Home Alone
Our last live-in support leaves, and we begin fending for ourselves. Things go remarkably well.

Aug. 30, 2005 - First Road Trip
We drive to Portland and back - and live to tell the tale.

Sept. 3, 2005 - Four-Week Birthday
Nothing else really happened this day.

Sept. 6, 2005 - One-Month Birthday
... and I finally get this post up, after two weeks of planning.

At the end of her first month, Sophia is stunningly beautiful and surprisingly good-natured, considering what she's been through. In the next week or so (which means sometime in 2008), I'll write a post describing Ms. Phia in detail - her likes, dislikes, her little personality quirks.

Driving with Chris: Cadillac XLR

2005-09-04T19:35:00.000-07:00

Cadillac's XLR - quick, refined, and $75,000.

Over the last several years, Cadillac has made a remarkable comeback from near-irrelevance to a position of making cars nearly, but not quite, as good as the stellar offerings from BMW, Audi, Mercedes-Benz, Lexus, and Infiniti.

That sounds like damning with faint praise, but of all of General Motors' divisions, Cadillacs are generally better-engineered and better-equipped to go head-to-head with their competition - a feat made even more impressive considering the caliber of that competition. The Cadillac SRX small SUV is arguably the best in its class, and the small sports-sedan CTS and mid-size sports-luxury sedan STS are at least competitive with some of the industry's heaviest hitters.

The XLR two-seat sports convertible is Cadillac's flagship car - its flashiest, most expensive, and most exotic offering, meant to go head-to-head with Mercedes' flagship SL two-seat convertible.
This is a task that was attempted in the 1980s by the Cadillac Allante, but the XLR has better ordinance with which to do the job.

Cadillac's engineers started with the stiff platform and excellent suspension of the previous generation Chevrolet Corvette and dropped in Cadillac's proprietary Northstar V-8 for motivation. In this setting, the smooth and torquey Northstar generates a smooth 320 horsepower.

In practice, the XLR's handling is as precise and immediate as one would expect from a Corvette chassis; the engine, while not as hard-edged as a Corvette, provides a level of power and refinement commensurate with the XLR's more patrician mission. The overall effect is one of calm but ever-present competency - a thoroughbred athleticism that is available when called upon without ever creating a scene.

A power folding hardtop allows the XLR owner to enjoy the delights of top-down motoring without having to compromise foul-weather protection, but the rest of the accomodations aren't quite as nice. The interior trim, switchgear, and navigation and entertainment system look a bit cheap in Cadillac's entry-level CTS sedan; they look dramatically out of place in a $75,000 luxury tourer.

Yes, $75,000 for a Cadillac - and in the end, despite a sweet-mannered vehicle, that price may be too much for skeptical customers to swallow. As a vehicle, the XLR blows away competitors such as the Lexus SC430 and Jaguar XK8, but it also costs more than either. It also costs significantly more than the new, more advanced Corvette or even the Corvette Z06 - a budget supercar that retails for less than the XLR while running with the fastest cars on earth.

The Cadillac undercuts the $91,000 Mercedes-Benz SL500 significantly, and, mechanically, is not embarrassed by the more expensive Teutonic juggernaut. However, it's hard to imagine a Mercedes buyer being swayed by the Cadillac nameplate or the cheap plastic surfaces that abound in the XLR.

The XLR is an excellent car, but like the rest of Cadillac's offerings, it might be lacking just enough to keep it from superstardom.

The XLR's power retractable hardtop provides top-down fun without the hassles of a soft convertible top.

Quick Administrative Note

2005-09-04T18:31:00.000-07:00

The Good Ship Hafner Three has received a few automated spam comments in the last few hours, so I've taken the bold step of adding a word verification before you leave a comment.

You can still be anonymous and leave a comment, but first you have to read one of those weird twisted nonsense words and enter the text into a box to verify that you're human and not a comment bot.

And, once again, the terrorists have won.

Baby's First Road Trip

2005-09-04T16:52:00.000-07:00

Grandpa Mike introduces Sophia to John Deere - a truly superior brand of heavy construction equipment.

I've come into this parenting experience with a huge variety of erroneous preconceptions, each foolishly misguided in its own inimitable way. Chief among those is my tendency to overrate the importance of physiological factors in a baby's behavior.

You know, like if you feed the baby enough, she must inevitably fall asleep. Or that since most babies enjoy napping on their stomach, Sophia will always enjoy it. Or that since driving around the city in half-hour chunks has always been enough to conk her out, an automobile ride of any length would inevitably leave her knocked out for as long as the drive continued.

Um, no.

Last week I brought Leigh and Sophia along on a business trip to Portland to stay with my parents while I worked, and Sophia took full advantage of her latest opportunity to prove me utterly wrong.

A round trip that normally takes me roughly five hours total ballooned to more than eight hours with the young one aboard. Sophia kicked off the first half of each trip with a cacaphony of crying and caterwauling that led to an inordinate amount of time spent breast-feeding and calming a screaming baby in a variety of locales - outside small-town McDonald's restaurants being eyed by the local youth in their lowered Chevy S-10s; parked in rural gas station parking lots hoping not to be disturbed; or changing Sophia in grimy, institutional rest areas.

Grandma Cathy enjoys some quality time with the newest member of the family.

Truth be told, Sophia did very well considering her youth and the length of each trip; in the second half of each leg, the white noise and motion of the car eventually managed to cajole her to sleep. Still, my dangerously ignorant assumption that (car)+(baby)=(guaranteed sleeping baby) has been forever dispelled.

This is all just in time, of course, for us to repeat the trip next week so that Leigh and Sophia can stay with my folks in the Portland area while I fly to California for my last trip there with Parts & People.

The excellent thing is that both Leigh and Sophia had time to spend some time with my folks; Leigh had the benefit of helping hands more competent than mine, and my folks got to spend some time with the two beautiful women with whom I have the pleasure to live.

Sophia takes advantage of some "tummy time" at Grandma & Grandpa's house.

New Job!

2005-09-03T14:34:00.000-07:00

It is my pleasure to report that as of Sept. 19, I will be the newest fresh-faced employee of e-retailing giant Amazon.com. All hail e-commerce!

My official title is Associate Buyer of Amazon's new Automotive store. My duties there will be varied and myriad, which is a fancy way of saying I'll be doing a lot of stuff but at the moment I'm not entirely sure what specifically those duties will include.

What I do know is that I'm excited to work for an industry leader like Amazon, even more excited to be part of helping a new venture find success, and most excited yet that this new position does not involve the crippling travel and dispiriting sales responsibilities that my Parts & People gig did.

Not that Parts & People wasn't a great place to work. They're great people with a terrific product, and I wish them well. But this is an excellent thing for our family.

The one noticeable impact as far as this blog is concerned is that as of Sept. 16 I will lose access to the new cars that make Driving with Chris possible. Of course, it's not as if I've been writing those consistently anyway, so I suppose that's no huge loss.

Letter from New Orleans

2005-09-02T20:37:00.000-07:00

Aid is beginning to trickle into devastated New Orleans, and it appears that perhaps the momentum is beginning to swing in favor of the stranded residents - albeit too slowly for some. More weak and infirm died today from lack of basic necessities - they died in a major urban center, surrounded by other helpless people, nearly a week after the hurricane.

I'm gritting my teeth and doing my level best to avoid lobbing verbal bombs at the vast array of public officials - elected and appointed - who are trying to indulge in self-congratulation and attempting to spin the slow-motion response as something other than a huge failure.

Self-righteous indignation, while fun, isn't flattering on me, so to avoid that and to provide another perspective, I'll publish a letter from a doctor stranded in the French Quarter. It was written Tuesday afternoon and provides an interesting perspective on the coming events.

I received it from a trusted colleague formerly of the Denver Post, and I've seen references to the events described here from independent sources, so I believe this to be a genuine document from the disaster zone.

---

Thanks to all of you who have sent your notes of concern and your prayers. I am writing this note on Tuesday at 2 p.m. I wanted to update all of you as to the situation here. I don't know how much information you are getting but I am certain it is more than we are getting. Be advised that almost everything I am telling you is from direct observation or rumor from reasonable sources. They are allowing limited internet access, so I hope to send this dispatch today.

Personally, my family and I are fine. My family is safe in Jackson, Miss., and I am now a temporary resident of the Ritz Carleton Hotel in New Orleans. I figured if it was my time to go, I wanted to go in a place with a good wine list.

In addition, this hotel is in a very old building on Canal Street that could and did sustain little damage. Many of the other hotels sustained significant loss of windows, and we expect that many of the guests may be evacuated here.

Things were obviously bad yesterday, but they are much worse today. Overnight the water arrived. Now Canal Street (true to its origins) is indeed a canal. The first floor of all downtown buildings is underwater. I have heard that Charity Hospital and Tulane are limited in their ability to care for patients because of water. Ochsner is the only hospital that remains fully functional. However, I spoke with them today and they too are on generator and losing food and water fast.

The city now has no clean water, no sewerage system, no electricity, and no real communications. Bodies are still being recovered floating in the floods. We are worried about a cholera epidemic. Even the police are without effective communications. We have a group of armed police here with us at the hotel that is admirably trying to exert some local law enforcement.

This is tough because looting is now rampant. Most of it is not malicious looting. These are poor and desperate people with no housing and no medical care and no food or water trying to take care of themselves and their families. Unfortunately, the people are armed and dangerous. We hear gunshots frequently. Most of Canal street is occupied by armed looters who have a low threshold for discharging their weapons. We hear gunshots frequently. The looters are using makeshift boats made of pieces of styrofoam to access. We are still waiting for a significant national guard presence.

The health care situation here has dramatically worsened overnight. Many people in the hotel are elderly and small children. Many other guests have unusual diseases. ... There are (Infectious Disease) physicians in at this hotel attending an HIV confection.

We have commandered the world famous French Quarter Bar to turn into an makeshift clinic. There is a team of about seven doctors and PAs and pharmacists. We anticipate that this will be the major medical facility in the central business district and French Quarter.

Our biggest adventure today was raiding the Walgreens on Canal under police escort. The pharmacy was dark and full of water. We basically scooped the entire drug sets into garbage bags and removed them. All under police excort. The looters had to be held back at gunpoint. After a dose of prophylactic Cipro I hope to be fine.

In all we are faring well. We have set up a hospital in the the French Quarter bar in the hotel, and will start admitting patients today. Many will be from the hotel, but many will not. We are anticipating dealing with multiple medical problems, medications and and acute injuries. Infection and perhaps even cholera are anticipated major problems. Food and water shortages are imminent.

The biggest question to all of us is where is the National Guard. We hear jet fignters and helicopters, but no real armed presence, and hence the rampant looting. There is no Red Cross and no Salvation Army.

In a sort of cliché way, this is an edifying experience. One is rapidly focused away from the transient and material to the bare necessities of life. It has been challenging to me to learn how to be a primary care phyisican. We are under martial law so return to our homes is impossible.

I don't know how long it will be and this is my greatest fear. Despite it all, this is a soul-edifying experience. The greatest pain is to think about the loss. And how long the rebuild will take. And the horror of so many dead people .

PLEASE SEND THIS DISPATCH TO ALL YOU THING MAY BE INTERSTED IN A DISPATCH from the front. I will send more according to your interest. Hopefully their collective prayers will be answered. By the way, suture packs, sterile gloves and stethoscopes will be needed as the Ritz turns into a MASH.

---

Amazing - and sobering - stuff for those of us safely out of harm's way.

New Orleans musings

2005-09-01T19:43:00.000-07:00

To interrupt for a moment the tone of snide idiocy I generally propogate on this blog, I wanted to offer a quick thought on the worsening tragedy unfolding in New Orleans. With every hour that passes, it becomes more clear that we are witnessing something more than just a hurricane and its related damage; we are seeing the complete devastation of a major American city and a profound cultural event.

Any storm that can savage the hulking, implacable concrete structure of the Superdome with only wind and water is certainly a force to be reckoned with, and Hurricane Katrina's assault on the Gulf Coast was truly breathtaking in its destructive ferocity.

But perhaps even more terrifying than the violent decimation of the Mississippi coast has been the slow, frighteningly casual unraveling of lives in front of TV cameras in downtown New Orleans.

Today, days after the hurricane swept through, people are still trapped on rooftops awaiting rescue. Some are living on rooftops by choice to escape the savagery of the roving groups of looters and armed gangs. Thousands of people at the Convention Center and elsewhere have gone days without food or water and are slowly dying in full public view. Crowds of people are withering away without the necessities of life and giving up hope for their survival.

The process is heart-breaking and terrifying - families panic as their loved ones slip away from life, and onlookers place blankets over the recently dead. Parents have no way to feed their babies, and the whole scene is unfolding in a public place, in throngs of hundreds or more people, in many cases in front of TV cameras and reporters.

No doubt access to the flooded city is still difficult; but if TV crews can gain access to the scene to bear witness to people withering away with hunger, dehydration, and a lack of needed medication, why haven't aid workers arrived on the scene en masse with pre-packaged food, pallets of bottled water, and insulin? We are now days after the initial crisis, and the needs are known - where are organized caravans of private vehicles to evacuate survivors to an area with the necessary infrastructure? If the government and the non-profits can't help the survivors meet their most basic needs, why hasn't the private sector stepped in to save the day and generate positive buzz? Why hasn't Pizza Hut sent helicopters or trucks with hundreds of pizzas and a crate of Diet Cokes?

I hate to second-guess crisis response, since the scale of the devastation is beyond imagining and it's not an easy thing to organize relief efforts, but it's not as if the thousands of refugees at the Convention Center are a surprise. Over the past few days, the New Orleans mayor has been calling for refugees to meet at the Convention Center for aid. Heck, I knew that was a major aid point. No aid of any kind has since materialized there, and the mayor is now begging for help from the outside world to keep the gathered thousands of remaining citizens in his city alive.

In a stunning example of the short-sighted beaurocratic mentality at its best, over the past four years (since FEMA called a hurricane hitting New Orleans one of the "three likeliest, most catastrophic disasters facing this country"), FEMA's focus was reassigned to response and recovery, not preparedness; FEMA denied Louisiana's pre-disaster mitigation requests last year; and funding for the New Orleans District of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers was cut by $71.2 million this year.*

I'm not trying to make a political statement here, and I think the attempts by some to make partisan points on this topic are tasteless and missing the larger picture. There's only so much you can do when an entire city sits below sea level and a Category 5 hurricane levels the protective levee system.

But the dissipation of the hurricane should have marked the beginning of the difficult recovery, not the deepening of a humanitarian crisis in which we are watching death and despair march increasingly among crowds of people waiting in a public place for help. The TV cameras can get there - why can't food, water and medication?

In the end, the overriding impression is that no matter how far we've come as a species in terms of technology and infrastructure, no matter how secure we are in our hubris, we are still pitiful and helpless when confronted with truly epic forces and events.

For the best, though heart-breaking, coverage of the crisis, check out the New Orleans Picayune, which is still publishing reports online.

* I read this on the Internet, so it must be true.

Heady Accomplishments

2005-08-27T16:37:00.000-07:00

Inside Sophia's world record ...

I am proud to report that Sophia Hafner, as of roughly two weeks ago, blew wide open the Prone Poop Spray world record, establishing the new mark at a healthy 6 feet, 4 inches - with a maximum vertical component of two feet high.

Sophia, in her first full day home from the hospital, clearly had her mind (and other regions) firmly focused on her impending moment of greatness. The requisite window of opportunity presented itself in a diaper change performed by her fortunate father, with Leigh’s Aunt Linda distracting her at the head.

Sophia, however, was not to be distracted.

I, while wiping her buttocks, noticed a sudden sizzling sound coming from what my mother euphemistically calls Sophia's “vent.” My immediate reflex was to lean in closer to get a closer look at the phenomenon, but common sense quickly intervened in moving my head sharply backwards.

Moments later, my daughter made her mark in the history books – and all over the wall, a Velveteen Rabbit wall hanging (“Mr. Skin Horse, does being pooped on make me Real?”), several cards from my extended family, our baby monitor, her side table, a boom box, her crib, the mattress, and the floor.

During my hour-long cleaning session (including the scouring of woefully underprotected electronics equipment), I began trying to unlock the physics of her achievement – just like those forensic detectives who decode car wrecks by analyzing the, um, skid marks.

Unfortunately, we are missing a few key pieces of data. Any calculation of, well, muzzle velocity requires both distance and travel time. We have distance – a measurement longer than I am tall, I’m proud to say – but unfortunately we do not have an accurate time measurement from departure from Sophia to arrival on the floor. Even if we had that muzzle velocity, any measurement of force in Newtons would require mass, a measurement surely possible but impractical.

I, like most new parents, had been familiar with the likelihood of baby boys drawing new and exciting patterns on the ceiling (and their parents) with their urine during diaper changes. I had never contemplated the possibility of anything even broadly similar from my daughter.

Well, she's not just capable - she's excellent. That's my girl.

Linda with Sophia, during a quieter moment.

Milestones in Automotive History: 1974 Chevrolet Chevelle Laguna Type S-3 454

2005-08-27T12:10:00.000-07:00

The 1974 Chevy Laguna "Action Car" provided action in very slow, ponderous, inefficient installments.

Those familiar with the subjects of previous installments of Milestones in Automotive History may be puzzled at the vehicle of honor this week. What could a Chevrolet muscle car with a powerful 454-cubic-inch V-8 possibly have in common with the Yugo GVX and Chrysler-Maserati TC?

In truth, the 1974 Chevrolet Chevelle Laguna Type S-3 454 wasn’t so much a muscle car as it was the decaying, bloated corpse of a muscle car – the dug-up remains of the glorious Chevelle 454, reanimated Weekend at Bernies-style with nothing more substantial than a spritz of Lysol and a freshly-pressed leisure suit.

While the Chevelle 454 was one of the brightest stars of the resplendent automotive firmament of the late 1960s, the Laguna was just the opposite - an impossibly inky black hole in the considerably darker sky of the early 1970s.

For its role in tarnishing an automotive legend, and for its status as a car that hit rock bottom in a variety of ways – a slow muscle car, a gas guzzler during the first major fuel shortage, and a cramped, uncomfortable car with massive external proportions - the 1974 Chevrolet Chevelle Laguna Type S-3 454 easily qualifies as a Milestone in Automotive History.

In a 1970 Car & Driver comparison test, a Chevelle 454 had battled the legendary Shelby Cobra to a draw and established itself as one of the most powerful and seductive muscle cars of its era. Despite being saddled with the poor traction of the time’s notoriously poor tires, a 0-60 run of 5.4 seconds and a quarter-mile time of 13.81 seconds would make the Chevelle 454 a seriously quick performance car even today.

1970 Chevy Chevelle 454 - Champ.

Four years later, emissions regulation and fuel shortages were forcing automakers to drastically cut power and move to smaller, lighter cars. Chevrolet responded by dressing its full-size Chevelle up in styling classy enough to enthrall any 1974-era pimp and stifling the the 454 V-8 with emissions gear that transformed the smooth, torquey engine into an unresponsive weakling.

The 454 dropped from 450 to 235 horsepower - though, to be fair, the 1970 engine was rated on a different system that slightly exaggerated power. Still, for reference, the 2006 Hyundai Sonata is available with that same 235 horsepower - in a car with vastly more space, 1,500 pounds lighter, much quicker, and driving three times as far on a gallon of gas.

All this resulted in a tawdry “muscle car” that could manage only a 0-60 time of 7.8 seconds and a quarter-mile time of 16.2 seconds - slightly slower than a modern Honda Odyssey minivan and just a tick ahead of a Kia Spectra. The Chevelle 454 of four years prior would have passed 100 mph and still been accelerating by the time the Laguna hit 80 mph.

1974 Chevy Chevelle Laguna Type S-3 454 - Chump.

To cap things off, the Laguna achieved that stultifying performance while averaging 7.5 MPG in the city and 13 MPG on the freeway – just the ticket for an era of cataclysmic oil shortages and long gas lines. But, at nearly $6,000 in an era in which a Datsun economy car could be had for $2,500, at least the Laguna was expensive.

It might be a bit unfair to compare a 30-year-old car to modern vehicles – though I’d point out that unfairness is one of the founding principles of Milestones in Automotive History. However, regardless of era, I’m just enthralled by the idea of a Chevrolet 454 muscle car that wheezes along in stride with a four-cylinder Kia - especially considering the fact that the Laguna has 7.4 liters of engine to do the job, while the Sephia makes do with only 2.0. How is that possible?

The most damning comment on the Laguna is the fact that even in those dark times, high performance was still possible. Only one year earlier, Pontiac put into limited production its fully emissions-legal Trans-Am SD-455 with acceleration just as quick as the glorious 1970 Chevelle and miles ahead of the Laguna – 0-60 in 5.4 seconds, quarter-mile in 13.8. Even still, it managed better fuel economy than the Laguna.

Yes, those were bad times for cars, but the Laguna was, shockingly, worse still.

This gratuitous immediate post-birth photo of Sophia has absolutely nothing to do with the Chevy Laguna, unless of course she's mourning the collapse of a once-proud Chevrolet performance tradition.

More to come ...

2005-08-26T12:05:00.000-07:00

"Update the blog, Daddy!"

The Blog is alive! It's ALIVE!!!!11!!!!!!1!

You know, I had thought I was doing the Internet and the rest of the world as a whole a service by sparing society from my meandering thoughts over the last two weeks, but as it turns out there are actually a few people who are masochistic enough to want to read this stuff.

For those people, I can say this - a few more pieces featuring my usual mix of idiocy and blathering rationalization are on the way. Thanks to recent events, I haven't had the time or inclination to write, so the result is that I have three or four pieces started but unfinished, and a few others that are written in my mind and crying out for amateur web publishing. Every piece will be studded with a variety of baby photos.

They include:
- a feature describing little Sophia's emerging personality - her likes and dislikes
- a birth blotter, taking us through the high and low points of pregnancy and birth
- a description (including a chart!) of Sophia's new world record
- my musings on fatherhood
- an all-new "Milestones in Automotive History"
- two all-new installments of "Driving with Chris"

I'm not all that far away from finishing them, so keep the faith!

Sophia in a slightly better moment.

Quick Note from the Daddy ...

2005-08-10T19:59:00.000-07:00

Sophia had a tough time in the hospital, but Mommy was there for every moment of it.

Hello everybody,

Grandma Cathy has done an admirable job of keeping the world posted with the specifics, but I just wanted to drop a quick note and say hello and thanks.

The most recent stuff (the recent emergency room trip, the multi-day hospital stay, and all the scary stuff associated with it) was down pretty far in the childbirth post, so I'll just bring it up here to say that we are back on the path of relative normalcy. She evidently does not have an infection, and Sophia is now healthy again on the dehydration front and ready to come home tomorrow. Leigh, assuming she continues to operate continuously awake without spontaneously combusting, will be at home as well and hopefully can get at least a little rest.

Here's the quick and dirty:

It takes a few days for breastmilk to come in, so what the baby gets initially is a small amount of high-protein, low-fat substance called colostrum, which has lots of neat stuff, such as the mother's antibodies. It's hugely important, but it's not all that sustaining.

Due to the Cult of Breastfeeding (I'm a fan of breastfeeding, but not a fan of the unbelievable expectations and unrealistic standards set by some - don't worry, I'll rant on this later), babies are expected to subsist only on colostrum for the first three days or so of their life. Formula is PURE EVIL and giving it to the baby is the virtual equivalent of scattering rusty nails into their cereal later in life.

So that was fine the first day, but the second day - at which point we were sent home - Sophia was getting a bit more fussy. She began refusing her colostrum at her regular intervals, opting for 5-7 hours instead of the recommended 2-4 hours. The hospital people didn't think it was that big a deal since her blood sugar was still high so we went home in good spirits and figuring she'd eat when she was hungry.

What they (and we) didn't take into consideration was her hydration. For a pretty big baby (Sophia was only one ounce shy of nine pounds at birth) , a tiny amount of colostrum at regular feedings just isn't enough to hydrate over several days. Especially when increasing dehydration made Sophia increasingly irritable and less likely to take the breast.

This, of course, led to a five-hour screaming and crying marathon several hours after discharge, during which 'Phia was completely inconsolable and, to an increasing degree, so were her parents. We expected her to cry and we'd work through it, but we didn't expect her to refuse any feeding or to blow past all the times she should have fallen asleep, or to blow up to a 101.9 degree fever (more than two degrees past the infant safe zone).

Increasingly panicked phone calls to family during the wee hours of the night gave way to a call to the doctor, who told us to get to the hospital pronto. Another few hours of inconsolable screaming and howling later in the ER, the staff finally thought to give us formula. We balked, figuring that hey - the hospital people had said her blood sugar was just fine! And anyways, feeding the baby vodka martinis would be preferable to giving her formula, right?

Of course, to our massive relief, Sophia slurped down the bottle of formula and fell fast asleep. With the exception of the hospital's curiosity about the possibility of a bacterial infection causing the fever, the immediate crisis was averted.

Still, the fever concerned the doctors and so Sophia subsequently got a spinal tap, catheter, and a multitude of IV drips. Poor kid. Everything looks fine now, and we're still trying to mesh the good aspects of breastfeeding with the reality that sometimes baby just isn't going to take it and that the bottle (both with formula and expressed breastmilk) can be our friend.

Leigh has been awesome throughout all of this, working on virtually no sleep while doing her darndest to keep 'Phia fed and hydrated. Big thanks to Lyle and Linda for helping me support Leigh in the hospital and keeping a rotating 24-hour presence with Leigh and Sophia despite having only one hard chair in a shared room from which to work. Also big thanks to Grandma Cathy for getting the word out and keeping me from going thoroughly insane when it looked as if there might be something seriously wrong with my little baby girl.

Once I get a little caught up with everything, I will be posting to the blog just as regularly (if not more so!) than before with photos, updates on the family, and my own wandering irrelevancy. I would advise you to expect the same tired mix of cliche and insipid prose that you've come to expect here over the past month or so. But now - baby pictures!

A great time was had by all at the hospital.

We are very happy to report...

2005-08-09T17:30:00.000-07:00

...that the population of Seattle went up by one Saturday night!

"Like a Greased Pea out of a Straw…" (Chris Hafner, Thursday Aug. 4 Posting)

Joyfully submitted by Grandma Cathy and Grandpa Mike Hafner

Miss Sophia Elizabeth entered the world at 11:27 on Saturday, August 6, weighing 8 lbs. 15 oz., 19” long. Had she waited another 33 minutes, she would have been born on her parents' 6th anniversary, but she decided she wanted a day all to herself. The sweet little procrastinator was 1½ weeks beyond her due date, but when she decided to take action, things happened very quickly.

Leigh had her scheduled doctor visit on Thursday, and she was still at just 4 cm. Nothing happened, no contractions, no discomfort, until 9:50 on Saturday night. Then the waters broke and contractions began at 2 minutes apart, lasting nearly a minute each. She was so uncomfortable and claustrophobic, she couldn’t get into the car for the drive to the hospital. Finally Chris called 911, which brought the fire department and the ambulance (and that brought out all the neighbors on their street). Chris called us from the ambulance about 10:45 to let us know they were on the way. The medical personnel in back with Leigh kept telling her to keep up the breathing and not to push, that most first births take hours and hours of labor. But one of them mentioned to the driver that he shouldn’t dawdle at the stop lights. They told Leigh they didn’t want to alarm her by putting on the siren, and she replied that she was more alarmed that they weren’t! So the driver looked over at Chris and grinned, saying, “This is the fun part”. He flipped on the lights and siren, and they got to the hospital emergency room about 11:00.

When the nurse examined Leigh, she suddenly became very businesslike – sent word to call the doctor, and told Leigh she was at 10 cm (6 cm in a little over 1 hour!). They went immediately to the delivery room, and Sophia was born shortly thereafter.

Chris called shortly after midnight, and he and Leigh were both feeling great, riding pretty high on adrenalin. Things happened so quickly, they couldn’t quite apprehend it was done. Neither got much sleep that first night.

We drove up Sunday morning from Camas in southern Washington, arriving when Sophia was sleeping on a pillow on Chris’s lap. It was so neat for us to watch Chris and Leigh falling more and more in love with their baby. When Leigh’s family arrived, all of us had a chance to hold her for a few minutes, but most of the time she was asleep. She is “newborn red” in color, has chubby cheeks and thighs, dark hair, and long fingers and fingernails. Grandpa Lyle says she looks just like Leigh did at birth.

It also happened to be SEAFAIR 2005 weekend, Seattle's big summertime extravaganza. The U.S. Navy Blue Angels were doing a show over Lake Washington in the city, and Leigh's hospital window was a good viewing point. Which means our little "Seafair Sophia" was serenaded by angels in a rather spectacular fashion on her first day of life.
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An aside: remember Capt. William Clark, of the fabled Lewis & Clark Expedition? Nearly 200 years ago, when they saw the Pacific Ocean after toiling for months and months up the rivers, through the wilderness, and over the mountains, Clark recorded in his journal, ”Ocian in view! O the joy!” For all of us, it is “Baby in view! O the joy!”
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Update: Tuesday, August 9, 2:30 p.m.
Leigh and Chris are having a few challenges. Yesterday at home, Sophia wouldn’t sleep and didn’t seem interested in nursing, but she did seem to embrace the concept of crying rather well. She cried inconsolably for hours and hours, with her anxious parents trying everything.

Around 3 a.m. they called the doctor, and because she had a temperature of around 102°, he suggested they go to the emergency room. They couldn’t find anything wrong but said she was hungry and overtired, and somewhat dehydrated by all the crying. (You know how babies get so worked up they can’t settle down to nurse or sleep…) So the nurse gave them a bottle of formula, which Sophia inhaled. Then she slept. But it was another night of very little sleep for Leigh and Chris.

Chris said they will keep little 'Phia at the hospital for a 48- hour observation. Apparently, Leigh carries a Strep B virus in her body (something about one-third of all women carry; it doesn’t affect adults), and since the delivery was so quick, there wasn’t time for an antibiotic I-V during labor. They just want to be sure there isn't a strep infection starting with Sophia. Leigh and Chris are staying with her, and Lyle is on the way. Aunt Linda will join them this evening, and they will take turns staying with Leigh and Sophia through the 48 hours. Chris said right now everything seems to be going well, and this is mainly a precaution. Both of them have managed to catch a couple hours of sleep this afternoon, which certainly helps. We all appreciate your warm thoughts and prayers!
Newsflash 5:30 - Chris just called to say Sophia is sleeping well, feeding well, and has no temperature. The preliminary results on her bloodwork show everything is fine.
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Chris apologizes for not keeping up with the baby-blog, and he has given me (Grandma Cathy) the privilege of updating. Without Chris's editing, there may be some inaccuracies that will need to be corrected later.

Four of a Kind

2005-08-04T17:09:00.000-07:00

A quick note - If you don't want to hear a great deal of detail about Leigh's cervix, I'd advise you to skip this post entirely.

Leigh enjoying some fries at a time before she was dilated four centimeters.

Well, we just returned from the doctor with some interesting and rather heartening news - Leigh is now four centimeters dilated on both sides of her cervix.

"Both sides of her cervix?" you might ask. "I've never heard of such a thing! Does Leigh have a really bizarre cervix or something?"

The answer to that question is evidently yes, although while answering in the affirmative I'm sure I'd be trying to figure out if I should sock you in the face for asking such an insulting and personal question.

See, here's the deal - a few weeks ago, when we reported that Leigh was dilated three centimeters, Leigh was actually dilated one centimeter in the front of her cervix and four centimeters in back. Having different numbers like that is very unusual. So unusual, in fact, that when doing her exam, Dr. McDermott said that Leigh's cervix was "very strange." Still, she said that Leigh was dilated to the equivalent of a three if we didn't want to go super in-depth about it. Same exact deal last week.

This time, things have evened up. Leigh is now an honest-to-God four centimeters dilated front to back, although Dr. McDermott still said that Leigh's cervix is "really messed up" - a phrase I'm sure every woman is excited to hear. The good doctor was even able to hook her finger around the opening of the cervix, which is evidently thrilling news but created sensations about which Leigh was rather less excited.

The really interesting thing is that four centimeter dilation is all that's necessary to be granted entrance to the birthing suites - in terms of dilation, Leigh is in fact already done with the first stage of labor. All that is missing are contractions. How Leigh is walking around four centimeters dilated without having any contractions or just shooting that baby out like a greased pea out of a straw is anybody's guess.

Regardless, Dr. McDermott told us that childbirth was imminent (which was news we greeted with cold, skeptical stares) and that if all else failed she would induce labor early next week - likely on Monday.

So, it's not as if we haven't heard this before, but the latest word on the streets is that we should have a baby by Monday at the latest. All I can say is that if Sophia tries to upstage our wedding anniversary by arriving on Sunday, she will have to be severely disciplined.

Back off, Child Protective Services, I'm just kidding. Mostly.

By the way, the photo accompanying this piece has absolutely nothing to do with the subject matter. I just enjoyed Leigh's look of utter satisfaction while she's eating those fries. This despite the fact that they were almost criminally undersalted, thanks to our friend Tracy telling the waiter that Leigh was "already bloated enough" and didn't need to "retain any more water."

Classic stuff. Thanks, Tracy.

Driving with Chris: Nissan 350Z Roadster

2005-08-04T10:32:00.000-07:00

Ours was like this, but red - and with a pregnant woman in the passenger seat.

Reviewing cars can be a brutally tough business. What is this world coming to when a poor soul can be callously tasked with the duty of driving a nimble, powerful, red sports convertible for a week?

It was a difficult burden to carry, but I mustered every bit of professionalism I could to get through the ordeal.

The Nissan 350Z Roadster is the open-topped variant of Nissan's relatively recent reinvention of its Z-car line. Most onlookers were impressed by the topless 350Z's styling - its taut, aggressive, and modern looks combined with its bright red color and automatic convertible top gave the aura of a car more exotic than a $35,000 Nissan sports car. The 350Z is refreshingly non-retro - unlike Chevrolet with its Corvette, Nissan felt free to create something entirely new out of its storied sports car line, with excellent results.

That is, if you don't listen to the uncharitable onlookers who compare it to a rolling red gel cap straight out of the medicine cabinet.

Inside, the 350Z is startlingly stark - everything is textured black plastic, with no evident luxury touches. The aggressively contoured dash looks a bit cheaply made at first, but over time appreciation grows for its simple, clean layout.

The seats are firm and very supportive, but thanks to a reclined seating position and an extremely low car, getting out is not nearly as easy. Those familiar with my No. 2 pencil-like flexibility will have little difficulty in visualizing my lack of grace in exiting the car. Extracting heavily pregnant Leigh from the 350Z often required calling in the Jaws of Life.

Nissan doesn't even make a pretence of providing a back seat with the 350Z. That's actually a bit refreshing - the Audi TT is just one notorious example of a four-seat sports car in which the back seat is suitable only for limbless eight-year-olds. However, in cars with vestigial rear seats, that area can serve as a padded and seatbelted luggage shelf. The 350Z has no such space within the cabin, and the Roadster's trunk is only 4.1 cubic feet large - sufficient to fit only one, perhaps two laptop bags. The 350Z is definitively not the car for long cross-continent odysseys.

As a beast of burden, then, the 350Z falls sadly short. As a sports car, however, it excels.

Nissan's 3.5-liter V-6 engine is one of the best around - it is powerful, flexible, refined, rugged, and even provides reasonable fuel economy (to the tune of 20 mpg city and 26 mpg highway in the 350Z). In the Z, it provides 278 horsepower and an excellent burbling soundtrack whether the driver is loafing happily along or is in full race-driver mode.

To judge against the 350Z's competition, if the Mazda RX-8 sings in a shrieking soprano and the Chevrolet Corvette murmurs in a mellow baritone, the 350Z voices its song in an aggressive tenor, warbling its way through the midrange of automotive music with a distinctively mellifluous six-cylinder note all the way up to its surprisingly low 6,500 RPM redline.

That engine, paired with the toggle-switch movements of an almost unnervingly immediate gearbox and clutch combination, propels the 350Z to hyperlegal velocities remarkably (and thrillingly) quickly. The 350Z also handles extremely well, although at the cost of some ride comfort.

As much fun as the 350Z is with the top up, dropping the top adds another dimension. Any convertible in summery Seattle can enthrall, entertain, and relax - this one can do so while subjecting one's body to hugely entertaining G forces.

At $35,000 as tested, the 350Z is obviously no bargain for a family looking to haul groceries and pick kids up from soccer practice, but it's an excellent choice as a smooth, well-engineered sportster.

Kim wishes she drove a red Nissan 350Z Roadster.

O Sophia, Where Art Thou?

2005-08-02T12:24:00.000-07:00

To answer 2005's most commonly-asked question:

No. No baby yet. No contractions, no labor, no birth, no life-changing event, no holding our daughter in our hands, no Leigh escaping for her biological nightmare. And yes, we're nearly a week after due date.

We are currently in this weird emotional purgatory in which Leigh somehow, despite all odds, continues to get more and more pregnant - she experiences more and more weird and uncomfortable things, and labor stubbornly refuses to begin. So much for the mucus plug and bloody show, eh? Just goes to show that secretions are an untrustworthly lot, I suppose.

Meanwhile, we can't exactly commit to doing anything other than sit around the house, since labor could conceivably hit at any time - so we continue to wait and put our lives on hold in anticipation of an event that has to this point resolutely refused to occur.

After waiting for this to happen over a period of time that has felt roughly equivalent to the Dawn of Time, we are both so numb and exhausted that neither of us at this point really believes that our child will ever actually arrive. We're like the little kids that send away for a toy with our cereal box UPCs - our fever pitch of excitement has worn down to resigned waiting, which in turn has morphed into a mix of slightly paranoid anticipation and resigned boredom.

Hopefully, unlike this example, when 'Phia arrives, she won't be a small, cheaply-made plastic toy. Now that would be disappointing - and a bit disturbing.

Bizarre, I know, but what can I say? We're going a bit stir-crazy at the moment.

We'll let everybody know as soon as anything happens - good, bad, or ugly.

Overdue, but Fine

2005-07-29T16:17:00.000-07:00

Leigh is still geared up and ready to birth.

I've made the point before that pregnancy and childbirth are beautiful processes as long as you don't look too hard at some of the specifics. As we near Go Time, that is becoming more and more true.

For those who want to maintain their sepia-toned view of the process, just be aware that thanks to the indication of some recent events, we are likely within 24-48 hours of childbirth. Leigh is in good spirits and feeling fine and ready (actually, more than ready) for this to happen.

This is a good thing, since due date was several days ago and we are starting to go a bit batty. Perhaps the weirdest part of the process (to this point, anyway) is that so far we're a bit bored, waiting for the inevitable moment when Huge Groundbreaking Events begin to take place. There are few things more annoying than having to wait to panic.

Romantics (and those in the middle of a meal) might want to skip past the italicized Region of Harsh Reality.

---

For those of stout constitution, I will elaborate. Last night Leigh lost her "mucus plug" and encountered some "bloody show." No, these are not offensive terms - they may not be particularly appetizing, but these are natural processes and part of the miracle of childbirth.

In normal, non-child-bearing life, losing a mucus plug and having some bloody show is not something to celebrate - unless you normally celebrate weird bodily secretions. However, in this situation, it means we're close - losing the mucus plug normally indicates that the pregnant mother is within a week or less (usually much less) of birth, while the bloody show normally indicates that birth will be in the next 24-48 hours.

And yes, I know you're all thinking it - "Mucus Plug and Bloody Show" would be an excellent name for a rock band. Or an extremely poor-selling video game.

---

Everybody back? Actually, was anybody reading in the first place?

No matter. The upshot is that we appear to be close and will provide further updates as events warrant - at least within reason. I doubt Leigh would be pleased if I was blogging while she was starting to push. It's okay, honey - remember childbirth is like hiking, and everything will be fine.

Milestones in Automotive History: Chrysler-Maserati TC

2005-07-29T12:17:00.000-07:00

The Chrysler-Maserati TC upon its debut in 1989.

Today's spotlight shines on a car that was so thoroughly compomised, so obviously a cynically mediocre car, that it embarrassed everybody involved even four years before it debuted. For those reasons and more, the Chrysler-Maserati TC is truly a Milestone in Automotive History.

When rumor began to circulate that the long friendship between mid-1980s Chrysler potentate Lee Iacocca and Maserati honcho Alejandro DeTomaso might result in the fruit of a collaborative automotive project, everybody sat up to take notice - who would have guess that one of Italy's most prominent luxury/performance automakers would deign to make a car with the beleaguered American automaker?

It was, of course, a brilliant idea - why not combine all the frumpy styling sensibility of a mid-1980s Chrysler with the legendarily spotty reliability of a Maserati?

The Chrysler-Maserati TC failed to meet even those rock-bottom expectations.

The plebian Chrysler LeBaron - an embarrasing clone of the TC.

AutoWeek put the car on its cover in late 1985, with the cover blurb, "Let's hope it comes in more flavors than this." The first line in the article was, "Maybe we expected too much."

The automobile unveiled the press was based on Chrysler's creaky and flexible K-car chassis, which underpinned all of Chrysler's vehicles at the time. The K-car chassis had debuted on the Dodge Aries and Plymouth Reliant, two compact economy cars which combined to begin bulldozing the already smoking wreckage of Chrysler's reputation. The styling was a lightly massaged version of the soon-to-debut Chrysler LeBaron convertible - but with saucy portholes in the rear quarter of the hardtop! Powertrain choices included Chrysler's 2.2-liter turbo four (which in the rare cases they are still running on today's roads advertise their presence with long clouds of white smoke) or a mysterious Maserati four-cylinder (more about that later), packaged with either a manual transmission or a three-speed automatic.

Minus the "Maserati" engine, these were the same underpinnings used by Chrysler's economy cars and minivans; definitely not the stuff of a $30,000 sports luxury roadster. Making matters worse, Chrysler touted the TC as a competitor to the Mercedes-Benz 560SL - one of the finest cars on the road.

Maserati's DeTomaso was already distancing himself from the project in the AutoWeek. When asked about the "Maserati" engine Chrysler representatives described, AutoWeek quotes DeTomaso as saying, " 'It is not a Maserati engine. Who told you this?' When we told DeTomaso that a Chrysler-supplied specifications list identifies the engine as a '16V Maserati,' he expressed anger and disbelief."

The Chrysler representative defended the TC's styling, saying, "Styling is very subjective - everybody likes something different. I think there are very legitimate statements one can make in a reasonable period of time ... and obviously, additional products can come forward at a future date that have different characteristics."

The TC was already a debacle - and this was four years before the TC even hit the market in a vastly more competitive and advanced 1989 market.

All told, Chrysler lost a reported $500 million on the project, and most of the owner sites honoring the TC today are also subtly offering their cars for sale.

The Chrysler-Maserati TC's thoroughly uninspiring rear view.

Big News Fails to Happen!

2005-07-27T12:59:00.000-07:00

Seattle--Today, at Swedish Hospital, Leigh Miller did not give birth to a girl, Sophia, roughly eight pounds in weight.

Today, Miller's due date, was not spent in labor, giving birth to her long-awaited and much-loved child.

"For a little while, nothing was happening," Miller said. "Then, after that, nothing continued to happen."

Miller's husband, Chris Hafner, shared his wife's joy and excitement - or, rather, the exquisite lack of same - at the day's thoroughly excitingly anti-climactic events.

"The day of childbirth is always full of wonder and euphoria; pain and beauty; joy and wistfulness," Hafner said. "It is a day that changes you forever. Today is just like that - except without the childbirth."

When asked for her comment about how she's handling the waiting process, Leigh said, "AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!111!!!1!!!!!"

Storming Ahead

2005-07-20T15:25:00.000-07:00

The Storm Win! The Storm Win!

Since we figured there was no better way to anticipate the birth of a child than to attend a professional basketball game and watch a marching band in the same evening, Leigh and I did just that. Our friend and Leigh's former co-worker Thomas is a member of the Rainbow City Band , which performed at halftime of the Seattle Storm/New York Liberty WNBA game last night.

First off, Thomas and the band did a great job - unfortunately, none of my photos of the band came out even reasonably well. That's what happens with a digital point-and-shoot, without a tripod, when shooting a subject that is in constant motion.

Secondly, we didn't see a game so much as we saw a furious parking-lot beatdown in which the defending world champion Storm jumped all over the Liberty until a slight fade towards the end of the game. Storm star Lauren Jackson suffered a sprained ankle and left the game with several minutes left, but a career night from Izzy Castro Marques and late heroics from Suzy Batkovic kept the game out of reach. The Storm won with a final of 87-78.

Prego Leigh at Seattle Center, shortly before she suited up for the Storm and dropped 40 points on the Liberty.

This wasn't our first WNBA game - we'd attended a Charlotte Sting game or two - but even after being jaded by 13 Sonics games and a playoff run, we had an awful lot of fun. Great seats are cheap, there were lots of enthusiastic kids at the game, and the level of play was extremely high. I've never really thought of things this way before, but with a daughter of our own on the way, it's awfully nice to be able to have the Storm around to show her that sports aren't just for boys.

The most difficult challenge of the night was getting Leigh to and from the arena - she'd chug along with arms furiously pumping trying to keep pace with the flow of traffic. Key Arena's comfortably padded seats didn't treat her all that well, either.

There may not be a baby yet, but evidently things are shifting around in there - I would not be surprised if Sophia joined us soon.

Suzy Batkovic shoots free throws late in the second half.

Milestones in Automotive History: Yugo GVX

2005-07-20T14:25:00.000-07:00

Feel the power of the Yugo GVX!

Yugo introduced its unreliable, underpowered, hopelessly antiquated GV hatchback in 1986 to worldwide jeering and derision; a level of scorn that only grew as people became more familiar with the intrinsic problems with an ancient FIAT design assembled with all the meticulous disregard and thorough apathy of Yugoslavia's Zastava auto group.

The GV's carbureted, 61-horsepower four-cylinder engine, its antediluvian suspension desion, and four-speed manual transmission were part of the problem. The remainder of the car constituted the rest of the problem.

In response to the deafening lack of demand for a performance variant of the GV came the GVX - a hot-rod Yugo that in thoroughly failing to meet even the dimmest expectations became a Milestone in Automotive History.

The extensive revision and customization process added alloy wheels, a stripe of metallic paint along the bottom of the side rocker panels, a sport steering wheel, and a dizzying array of engine revisions that boosted available power from 61 horsepower to, well, 61 horsepower. These modifications had all the enhancing effect one would expect from spraying Lysol into a vat of raw sewage.

According to Kelly Blue Book, a 1987 Yugo GVX with 180,000 miles and in "Fair" condition (an iffy proposition since most Yugos didn't leave the factory in "Fair" condition) is now worth $400.

One quasi-enthusiast has set up a hilarious page in which he claims his Yugo GVX "ownz joo."

Yugo eventually withdrew from the U.S. market in the early 1990s due to both poor sales and, according to one site, the fact that the EPA was on the verge of forcing Yugo to recall every car sold for failing to meet emissions standards.

What has been so far left unsaid in this sordid tale is that part of me thinks the Yugo is actually not a terrible looking car.

This modified Yugo GVX "ownz joo."

Dilation Nation

2005-07-18T22:40:00.000-07:00

Why is this pregnant woman smiling?

I'll start with the graphic personal details - as of last Thursday, Leigh was at 1 centimeter dilated, 50-percent effaced.

What does this mean? Well, it means that Leigh is one centimeter down, nine to go - the bulk of which will take place during labor. She only has to be four centimeters dilated to be admitted to the hospital for birthing. To phrase an indelicate concept in a quasi-delicate fashion, the parts that need to open are beginning to open.

Practically speaking, the doctor told us that Leigh has a 30-percent chance of giving birth before this Thursday - and that odds are good that she will give birth the week after that. This adds a fair amount of immediacy to the edgy not-quite-panic that we've been feeling for a month or so now. The theory of it all - the preparation, the pain, and ultimately, the payoff - is about to become awfully concrete awfully quickly.

We are well and truly in the home stretch now. The bags are packed, the car is fueled, and the baby seat and mirror are mounted. I just made it through deadline at work, so my desk is clear.

Stackson, our cat, of course has no idea of the madness that will soon be descending. He is still petrified of the balloons in Phia's crib and is pretty leery of the whole thing - no doubt crying and screaming will further erode his patience and goodwill (two resources in extremely short supply).

This obligatory Stackson photo shows him completely relaxed - but for how long?

Actually, I think it's about time we have this baby. For one thing, Leigh is starting to use her belly as a weapon. Just a few minutes ago, I was sitting here and updating the blog (which I realize was long overdue), when she came up behind me and started battering my head with the firm elasticity of her baby-belly.

For another, the house is about as clean as we can possibly sustain it. Leigh's Aunt Linda came over this weekend to help clean the floors (again) and to help us reorganize the kitchen. The place is spotless, and I'd hate for us to slide back into filth and pestilence before the kid arrives and we can call in the reinforcements.

In all seriousness, we're pretty keyed up. We just hope and pray everything goes well.

Further updates as events warrant - or, more realistically, when I feel like it and have the time.

Linda didn't want her photo on the blog. Hi, Linda!

Doing Grass

2005-07-18T21:38:00.000-07:00

Those of you who ever drove past our house in Charlotte know that I was perpetually locked in battle with our lawn - an implacable, inexorable enemy that knew not defeat. Every week I would struggle out into the impossibly hot, wretchedly muggy North Carolina summer air to fetch my loyal, battered gas mower. Together, we would quixotically tackle the broad, coarse weeds that pass for grass in North Carolina. Several hours, one severe case of dehydration, and at least one gas refill later, the grass would be (generally) shorter - but I would be beaten in both body and soul.

And then, three days later, the lawn would need to be mowed once more - a vegetable insurgency that refused to accept my claims of ultimate rule.

There are men (and women, no doubt) in suburbia whose lives revolve around the pH balance of their lawn. Those people would be crushed if their once-green lawn wound up brown and lifeless - for me it would be a crowning triumph. People used to laugh when I told them I was trying to kill my lawn, but what they didn't realize was that I wouldn't just like my lawn to die; I would welcome its death in the style of a hip-hop mogul, with celebratory bottles of Cristal, powerful handguns, and the purchase of SUVs with improbably large rims.

When we moved to Seattle and bought a house with a tiny postage-stamp of wispy, feeble grass, I immediately forgot the lessons of Charlotte. We wouldn't even need a gas mower, Leigh and I reasoned - why not buy one of those old-fashioned push rotary motors that would take up less space in the garage and wouldn't pollute or require us to store gasoline?

On the left, beauty; on the right, madness.

If the idea was to be environmentally friendly, the rotary mower certainly accomplished the task. It was positively chummy with the various flora that make up our lawn. It would greet each tuft of grass, gently caressing it and perhaps rough-housing it a little before moving on. Never did it actually, you know, cut the grass. Why, the very thought!

All of which, of course, explains why we stuck with the rotary mower for more than a year. I would go out for periodic but ineffective mowing sessions that invariably ended with the gently massaged wildflower stalks waving goodbye to me on my way back in. To achieve any success at all, I would have to approach a given meter square of lawn from five different directions and at varying speeds. I wasn't so much mowing the lawn as I was trying to give it a particularly ragged haircut.

Now? Ah .... now things are different.

Leigh's father Lyle, a kind and gentle soul who was no doubt weary of my unending assaults on his daughter's ears about the utter worthlessness of our mower, recently decided to give us a gas-powered mower as an impending baby present.

This isn't just any mower - it's a big-engined, self-propelled Toro. This is a ridiculous degree of overkill for our lawn, but I can't pretend that I don't derive a great deal of satisfaction from it. It's a bit like nuking the Sorth Pole to eradicate a slightly disgruntled penguin colony. And I love it.

Thank you, Lyle - not only have you aided me in my grim struggle with lawns everywhere, but I'm sure the neighbors want to give you a medal.

Driving with Chris: Audi A4 2.0T Avant Quattro

2005-07-18T19:54:00.000-07:00

Audi A4 2.0T Avant Quattro - Avant means "Station Wagon" in Meaningless-Marketing-ese.

Audis fulfill the same role today that BMW established in the 1980s - a symbol of status and discriminating taste among those who set themselves apart by eschewing the gauche standard of the time (Mercedes in the 1980s, BMW today).

"Huh?" you say in rebuttal.

The point is that Audi has moved well past its former position as mid-level scrapper and fully embraced its role as an even competitor in the marketplace with Mercedes-Benz and BMW. In the form of the new A4 2.0T Avant Quattro, that has manifested itself in two forms - a grossly engorged front grille and an even more bloated bottom line.

More on the price later; but yes, Audi has moved away from its slick, trim, sleek lines towards a chunkier, more substantial look, headlined by angry-looking headlights and taillights and the most substantial schnozz since Streisand. Actually, though I'm still not sure it's a step forward, I've become accustomed to the look and think it looks much nicer on the A4 than on the larger A6.

The real beauty of the A4 Avant - Avant meaning "Station Wagon" in Meaningless-Marketing-ese - is that it adds the utility of a wagon to what has always been one of the slicker sports sedans around. What this means to the much-coveted parasailing-and-rock-climbing demographic is that the Avant can hold a fair amount of outdoor gear while, unlike most SUVs, actually being a lot of fun to drive.

What the A4 Avant is not good at is carrying large numbers of people. The back seats are surprisingly small for a car that is actually not that much smaller than its stablemate, the Volkswagen Passat - to say nothing of much less expensive but similarly capable family cars like the Honda Accord V-6 and Nissan Altima.

The A4's front seats, on the other hand, are a good place to be. The Volkwsagen/Audi group does some of the best interiors in the business. Our tester's black-and-silver motif was classy and stylish; many of the interior pieces are actually made of metal, not shiny plastic. German ergonomics can leave something to be desired, with bits of curiously inexplicable hieroglyphics scattered hither and yon, but after an adjustment period everything makes perfect sense.

The A4 has always been one of the better mild sports sedans around, if not generally a dynamic match for the somewhat less stylish BMW 3-series. As usual, the chassis on the A4 Avant was solid, buttoned-down, and very capable - thanks partially to the Quattro all-wheel-drive system.

One note - Audi's marketing gurus decided a year or two ago that "Quattro" didn't really need to be capitalized. Hey, Audi - that's really stupid. I'm not doing it.

The 2.0T turbocharged four-cylinder engine is a slightly larger version of VW/Audi's ubiquitous 1.8-liter inline four, with variable valve timing and direct injection. What that rigamarole means is that this is an extremely small engine for a car this size and with its performace pretensions and still provides 200 horsepower. That's remarkable for the size of the engine, but in absolute terms it's not that impressive. The new Hyundai Sonata has a 230-horsepower V-6 available, for example.

Although this means the A4 2.0T Avant isn't the fastest car on the road - or even as quick as much of the competition - the 2.0 engine, like the 1.8, is still one of my favorite four-cylinders around. It's a sweet honey of an engine that, after a half-second of weakness, gives a satisfying surge of torque that, combined with the distant whine of the turbocharger, makes the car feel as if it's moving much faster than it is. It feels great in the Volkswagen Jetta, Golf, New Beetle, and Passat, and it feels great in the A4. For the price, I'd even prefer it in most cases to the optional 3.0-liter V-6.

Ah, price. Unfortunately, this is the A4 2.0T Avant Quattro's Achilles Heel. Our tester stickered at $39,750 - an astronomical price for a compact wagon that does many things well but nothing extraordinarily so. A completely stripped version retails for closer to $32K, but odds are that most examples available for sale will be closer to the higher price.

The problem with the A4 sedan is that while it is better in almost every way than the Volkswagen Jetta, the advantages over the larger and less expensive Passat are harder to discern. Add in competition from BMW, Volvo, Infiniti, Lexus, and Acura, along with Volkswagen/Audi's declining reliability record, and it becomes hard to make a case to purchase an A4 sedan for a mid-to-high $30K price, much less pushing $40K. This is especially true when considering the strength of the sportier-than-ever family sedans inhabiting the $25-$30K range.

The A4 Avant Quattro, likewise, is more expensive and less powerful than the slightly smaller Subaru WRX Wagon and the much larger Dodge Magnum Hemi, to say nothing of the wagon variants of the sedan competition.

The Audi A4 2.0T Avant Quattro is a very nice car that would nicely fit a niche at $30,000.

Driving with Chris: Kia Spectra SX

2005-07-18T18:43:00.000-07:00

Kia Spectra SX - "But it's a POS!"

I'm going to lead off this report with a vignette that will have Kia's marketing and PR people rushing for the nearest sharp objects upon which they can impale themselves.

Leigh's Aunt Linda came over this weekend to help us prepare for childbirth. When she came in the front door and the requisite hugs were exchanged, she asked me if the Kia parked out front was my newest text car. When I confirmed that it was, she said, "But it's such a POS!"

Yes, Kia has a bit of an image problem. The 2005 Kia Spectra SX is a decent-enough-looking small car - smooth and inoffensive in the Honda Civic mold, with a thoroughly unnecessary spoiler on the trunklid. But the best you can hope for from onlookers is studied indifference; once people start to notice the Kia badging, their lips start to turn up into a sneer. Our friendly neighborhood panhandler almost took pity and threw cash at the car when I was on the way home last night.

The thing is, for a $15,800 car, it's not that bad. Damning with faint praise, perhaps? Possibly. But in an age where a Honda Civic can easily top $20,000, the Spectra qualifies as an excellent buy for the price.

One thing is for certain - the Spectra is not an inspired engineering exercise. Our example had a pretty typical 138-horsepower four-cylinder engine, a long-throw five-speed manual, skinny tires, and a non-sporting "sport" suspension. Applying power out of a turn, the Spectra displays lots of torque steer - pretty remarkable, considering torque is an extremely limited resource in this car.

After sampling a bunch of high-end sports luxury cars, dropping into the Spectra feels at first like being shunned to the penalty box. The seats are hard, and the dashboard is pretty plain. It's all enough to make one pout like a wronged schoolgirl.

What's remarkable, though, is that the more time I spent in the Spectra, the more I liked it. The hard seats actually give quite a bit of support. There's not much on the dash, but the two-tone color scheme and simple but clean layout is actually quite handsome. The air conditioner works very well, and the Spectra hums along fairly quietly at highway speeds. The six-speaker CD stereo system is passable, if slightly tinny. Everything feels solid, well-built, and smartly put-together.

And, if you put in some effort, the Spectra is not thoroughly dull to drive. It's light enough to be tossable in the turns and actually has decent power when you're frenetically stirring the gearshift.

Sometimes, driving a slow car quickly is more fun that driving a fast car slowly. Thrashing along in the Spectra, I was reminded of a classic trip in which I frightened the bejeezus out of Kevin and Brian in Kevin's raggedly 1983 Honda Prelude on the mountain roads outside Leavenworth. That was a demonstrably slow car, with a shifting action reminiscent of moving a knife around inside a jar of peanut butter - but I don't know that I've ever had a better time than airing out everything that car had to give.

The Spectra has that same sort of infectious eagerness - it's not very capable, but if you put in the effort, it will too.

The one nearly fatal flaw is the Spectra's clutch. The Spectra's clutch is possibly the worst of any on a new car I've ever experienced. It's so terrible, in fact, that I'd consider going with an automatic instead - except that giving up control over what's happening in the drivetrain would probably sacrifice the small flashes of spirit that make the car so endearing at times.

The problem is that the clutch engagement point is right at the top of the clutch pedal's travel - which makes it abrupt, extremely awkward, and difficult to get used to. It felt remarkably like some joker had stolen the clutch out of a 200,000-mile 1973 AMC Gremlin X and bolted it into a brand new Spectra with only 1,800 miles on it.

No doubt a new owner would get used to the clutch - and now, after four days, I'm to that point - but it's still ridiculously poor. I'd hate to try this clutch out with another 50,000 miles on it.

Overlooking the clutch (with difficulty), the Spectra is a thoroughly professional, handsome small car for a relative pittance. While it would be tempting to buy a five-year-old used BMW instead with that same $16,000, that BMW would probably have upwards of 60,000 miles on it and wouldn't have a 10-year, 100,000-mile warranty.

All you need to know is that by the time she left, Aunt Linda had come around and said the Kia was "really pretty nice." Now that's high praise.

A Spectrum of White

2005-07-18T15:11:00.002-07:00

Two virtually worthless Chevrolet Spectrums (Spectra?).

For some unknowable reason, a collector in West Seattle has brought together two generally white, thoroughly knackered, Chevrolet Spectrums (Spectra?). The Spectrum was the late and completely unlamented re-badge job of the notably unremarkable Isuzu I-Mark - a relentlessly mediocre Japanese compact that was completely undeserved of a rebadging. Heartbeat of America, indeed!

It seems a bit odd that this man would invest this much effort to collect two virtually identical examples of a particular low point in automotive history - though I suppose it is remarkable that these two examples, unlike the rest of their bretheren, have not yet decomposed into their component atoms (though they appear to be on the way). Think about it - how many Chevy Citations, Ford Pintos, or FIAT Puntos have you seen recently?

I'm just waiting with bated breath to see whether spinners and "Mugen Power" stickers appear on these cars. If so, I heartily approve.

Keeping pace

2005-07-10T21:08:00.000-07:00

Leigh on bedrest - hard at work, of course. Is she working on a blog post? Actually, no.

Well, we're a little less than a week into this grand experiment, and already I'm re-learning how difficult it is to keep pace shoveling content into the Great Maw of the Internet. Of course, "shoveling" is actually a pretty decent word to use when discussing the organic matter I've spewed so far on this site. I've already had one comment that the content was too old. While that feedback is from a reader who I've since learned is a clinically insane and homicidal 95-year-old woman, it's still good to know.

We'll have to see how all this works out. I've seen entirely too many blogs which detail the prosaic information of everyday life with the expectation that readers are breathlessly interested in the events which even those experiencing them find dull.

"Oh, look at this! They had Cheerios this morning. Honey Nut Cheerios, no less! Sassy! And let's see ... check this out, honey! They laid around and watched TV tonight!"

So it will all be about finding the right compromise, I think. If I have to work too hard to come up with something interesting, I may drift slightly farther towards the fiction end of the spectrum - perhaps concocting multi-week hot air balloon trips for Leigh, while placing myself in the center of armed insurrections in Guam.

One easy way to provide more interesting content would be for Leigh to offer some thoughts. After all, she's the one who's pregnant, and the person everybody really wants to hear from. But no - she's going to continue to play coy - while continuing to pull various strings to run the world while she's on bedrest.

Of bedrest, labor, and white doves

2005-07-10T19:38:00.000-07:00

Here's a collage of pregnant Katie (who is due a few weeks after Leigh), pregnant Leigh, and unpregnant Erica today right before they took off for Katie's (low-key, compared to ours) baby shower:

I'll start with the news and then backtrack to provide an explanation - Leigh is on bedrest starting immediately, and Friday was her last day before her leave. So now, instead of overachieving and pushing herself too hard at work, she can do the same at home. Evidently she hasn't taken enough notice of my example in how to properly relax and not push oneself hard at all.

Now for the backtracking.

Society as a whole has an image of carrying and birthing a child that is so heavily weighted with sentimentality that one could easily imagine a birth in which the mother (in sepia-toned soft focus) lays tired but triumphant, her hand resting lightly on her swollen belly, smiling as the final stage of labor plays out; a flock of white doves fly through the room at the triumphant moment as the baby arrives, who is cooing happily. All is bliss.

I'm not wholly innocent of this charge. I'm a sentimental sort of guy, and there is magic to the process - the slow maturation of the parents as they realize the extent of their impending responsibility, the wonder that is inspired when they feel their child kicking and moving around, the excitement of seeing the kid in ultrasound.

But nowhere is it written that carrying or birthing a child is much fun. Just think about the grace and beauty with which the human body carries out its other natural functions.

So far, Leigh has dealt with hives over half her body; painfully swollen feet and ankes (as she calls them, her "bloody stumps"); acid reflux and a variety of other strange and unprecedented digestive issues; a massive spike in hormone level; engorged breasts that have rapidly outgrown all of her bras, and the bras she bought to replace them; and now, a blotchy right arm. The right arm is what prompted the bedrest - the blotches are spasming veins due to elevated blood pressure.

Like everything else, this isn't a serious medical problem - at least, if addressed and maintained at its current level. Hence the bedrest, and cheery advice from our doctor that if Leigh had a feeling of "impending doom," she needed to report to the hospital right away.

Yes, "impending doom." If she starts speaking in tongues, I'm really going to be freaking out.

To be honest, Leigh would be a bit nuts to not have a sense of "impending doom" after the childbirth class we took at Swedish.

Here's the happy-go-lucky condensed version: "Labor is going to hurt. It's going to hurt bad. Actually, it's going to hurt worse than anything you've ever felt in your life. You're going to feel like you're going to die. You can try some mental exercises that may or may not help with the pain. Now, to lighten the mood, we're going to show you video of women convulsing, screaming, in cold sweat. That's before they even arrive at the hospital. Oh, and we encourage you to not take pain medication."

Not that I helped much. At lunch, I began musing about the mental exercises meant to help distract from the pain, and the breathing patterns that give the mother the oxygen she needs - it all sounded vaguely reminiscent of strategies that helped me when I was hiking and climbing a great deal, especially at high altitudes, such as on Mt. Adams and Mt. Rainier.

Husbands, take note - don't even take the first tiny step towards comparing childbirth to hiking, unless you're eager to hear about it for many weeks (or longer).

Leigh, to publicly answer your seemingly rhetorical question after I made the comparison - no, I've never had any part of my body dilate to 10 centimeters or pop out something the size and shape of a watermelon while hiking. Glad I could clear that up.

Happy Birthday to Leigh!

2005-07-10T18:18:00.000-07:00

Well, the annual four weeks in which I snidely remind Leigh to respect her elders has come to an end - as of Saturday, July 9, she has joined me in the crusty age of 29.

We, of course, celebrated by going to a memorial service, and then on to visit the birthing suites at Swedish Hospital. During the tour, we learned that not only are the birthing suites comfortable, palatial, and tasteful, but that we will only be in them for a short time - to start with, we'll be in triage, with Leigh propped up on a cot in a cubicle, for a period of time ranging from 45 minutes to three hours.

Yeah, that'll be good. Leigh in labor, me freaking out, with her on a cot in a cubicle for three hours before they determine we are ready to go to the birthing suite. I don't see any problems in that scenario.

The picture here is of a Swedish birthing suite - though not from the actual hospital in which Leigh will be giving birth. In fact, it is in no way related - this photo is from the Swedish Covenent Hospital in Chicago, which as far as I could tell is in every way unrelated to Seattle's Swedish aside from its evident nationality.

But, since the tour guide took a dim view of me telling Leigh to get up on a birthing bed and acting like she's in labor so I could get a photo, this is the best I can do. It looks pretty much the same and was available through Google Images - so here you go.

Not the suite in which Leigh will give birth.

The Youth are our Future!

2005-07-10T18:10:00.000-07:00

Not a Ferrari.

I was in a Portland Texaco buying a bottled water and some Apple-Os, when the 20-something gas attendant noticed a DeThomoso Mangusta at the local stoplight. Obviously trying to impress the rather cute 20-something cashier, he burst through the doors and carried on the following conversation with her:

Dude: "Hey, I think that's a Ferrari out there!"

Chick: "Awesome!"

Dude: "Maybe it's a GTO or something!"

Chick: "That's phat!"

After pondering for a moment, she decided her superlative had fallen slightly short of the mark and decided to revise her statement.

Chick: "That's hella phat!"

Our nation's future is in excellent hands.

Driving with Chris: 1986 Volvo 240DL

2005-07-10T15:40:00.000-07:00

Our family Volvo 240DL.

After driving the Mercedes-Benz E350, switching over to our secondary car, a 300,000-mile Volvo 240DL, was a bit of a letdown.

The Volvo is Leigh's car, and basically a member of the family, so I won't savage it too badly here. Here, dear reader, are the facts:

- The Volvo is "painted" burgandy, which after six years exposed to the pollution, heat, and humidity in Charlotte, mellowed into an ashy, shadowed, scabrous color.

- The transmission is leaking fluid in about four different places; Swedish Automotive has sealed a few, but the Volvo still serves as a rather expensive transmission-fluid-to-nature distribution system.

- The heat shield on the engine is slightly loose, so it resonates at a variety of frequencies in sympathy with the long-suffering engine, giving the drivetrain the civilized sound of a two-stroke lawn mower running on rubbing alcohol.

- Leigh's brother Bryan and/or his friends took the opportunity to break just about every plastic interior piece during college, giving the interior a warmth and atmosphere matched only by that of a supermarket in a paticularly rough part of Moscow.

- For a time, the Volvo was our sole vehicle in Charlotte. This, combined with the fact that its air conditioner is a device that provides no cold air but overheats the engine rather efficiently, means that the front seats have absorbed untold gallons of sweat apiece over the last seven years. This is exacerbated by the fact that the seat heaters are placed directly under the cupholder, meaning they are switched unobtrusively on much of the time.

- Brand-new, the four-cylinder engine pumped out a fire-breathing 114 horsepower. Now, after 300,000 miles of abuse and without an overhaul, I'd wager it is fortunate to put out something like 95. This, when powering a two-ton steel safety cage with four seats in it, provides the disconcerting effect of attacking modest hills full-throttle and still steadily losing speed. It is almost, but not quite, able to pull the hat off one's head.

- Some low-life decided to break a window (worth a significant percentage of the worth of the entire car) to steal the low-buck economy CD player in the dash. Stealing a high-bucks Blaupunkt out of an Infiniti or Lexus, that I can see. But stealing the generic CD player out of our ancient Volvo ... that's a cry for help. I'm not angry so much as I'm consumed by pity for that thief.

Now just think - when I owned my 1983 Chevy Malibu Wagon (the 'Bu!), the 1986 Toyota Celtica, or the 1993 Saturn, the Volvo was the sophisticated, reliable transportation in the family. And in truth, if you can forget about the recent 5-degree list evident in the once-rock-solid steering response, it drives really nicely after it has been warmed up.

In fact, it has done very well for us. For a car we couldn't unload for $1,000 in Charlotte before the move, it has transported us safely and unreliably. In fact, it even got me off of a ticket. Once, when cruising along I-205 outside Portland, in a spot right when the speed limit changes from 70 to 60, I was pulled over for going 70 mph. However, the policeman took pity on me when he got an eyeful of my ride. He gave me a warning; in fact, he may not have even believed that I could have been traveling 70 mph in the Volvo.

It's been a great car - but stepping back into the Volvo after the E350 was a bit like getting off a Learjet and onto a tractor.

A warning - this post may disappear and/or undergo significant modification once Leigh sets eyes on it.

The hole where a cheap CD player used to reside, before some low-life stole it.

Impressions of the Nate McMillan press conference

2005-07-10T15:26:00.000-07:00

From l., Portland GM John Nash, Head Coach Nate McMillan, Owner Paul Allen, and President Steve Patterson greet the media and Portland fans.

One helpful comment here suggested that, since I was in Portland, I should pee on the side of the Rose Garden. I didn't want to do that, necessarily, but I did the next-best thing - I crashed the Nate McMillan press conference, put on my best Serious Journalist Scowl, broke out the digital audio recorder, and joined the press in the front row for the formal conference and other members of the Seattle media for informal one-on-ones afterwards.

I also considered taking a hot dog - take that, Portland!

Here's my report:

---

After 45 minutes meandering around downtown Portland looking for
Washington Park, a curiously coiffed young man with head-to-toe tattoos
finally pointed me in the right direction of the Portland Trailblazers'
introductory press conference for head coach Nate McMillan.

It had to be the most bizarre setting for a press conference I have yet
encountered. Instead of the drab, cheerless, beige room de rigueur for
media events, this was a full promotional event, held in brilliant
sunshine, in an amphitheater ringed with 200-300 fawning Trailblazers
fans. Hot dogs and frozen novelties were on offer; the throngs of fans
waved "WELCOME TO PORTLAND, NATE!" placards, and McMillan was delivered
to the park in a bus with a sign on the side saying the same thing.

As I descended into the bowl of the amphitheater, I felt a bit like the
proverbial Christian walking voluntarily in among the lions.

Having the public in attendance for an otherwise fairly typical press
conference was a bit awkward. The crowd would roar in approval to a
McMillan response to a serious question, and people began visibly
fidgiting during a long stretch in which the Seattle media in
attendance kept grilling Nate on his reasons for leaving and asking
Seattle-specific questions - especially ones that called into question
the Blazers organization and the quality of the roster.

The audio of the formal press conference has evidently been on Seattle
radio, so I'll just summarize some of my impressions and
information gleaned during informal one-on-ones afterwards, during
which I wedged in with Steve Kelley, John Levesque, and Dave "Softy" Mahler while trying not to draw the attention to the fact that I'm not actually media in any way
that was relevant to the event.

The Portland fans were waving these mildly nausea-inducing placards.

This is long; for more, go here:
http://tinyurl.com/b4qpa

McMillan leaves Seattle

2005-07-07T01:13:00.000-07:00

Nate McMillan says hello to Portland as Paul Allen looks on.

Ironically, I was driving to Portland tonight when, after switching the radio away from the Mariners being pounded by the Royals, the broadcast of the Seattle Storm being devastated by the Phoenix Mercury was interrupted by the news that Nate McMillan is leaving the Sonics after being drafted by the team 19 years ago to be the new Trailblazers head coach.

Even hours later, I'm still a bit in shock - this is news that I totally didn't expect. I expected Nate to flirt with the Blazers and use any offer from them as a bargaining chip - not to actually sign with them.

As I'm beginning to come out of shock, I find that I'm juggling a bunch of emotions. I'm going to try to sort them out here.

GRATITUDE
Nate's time as a player and/or coach in Seattle had to come to an end sometime. All coaches eventually move on (with the evident exception of Jerry Sloan), and rarely are the circumstances pretty.

So really, this opportunity is no worse than any other to recognize Nate's role in the last two decades of this franchise. Nate was never a star, but his heady, intelligent play, his tough defense, and his hustle made him an important contributor from the beginning right through to the end of his career.

It's easy to overlook the job he did mentoring Gary Payton from a brash and unpolished rookie into a likely Hall of Famer; or to lose the fact that for most of his career he was an underrated playmaker and a terrific defender; or to forget that McMillan's do-everything versatility at three positions helped the Sonics achieve great success in the mid-90s (and was greatly missed when hobbled); or to ignore McMillan's solid record as a young coach in coaxing success out of a rebuilding team with a transient roster - at least until 2003-2004.

Throughout it all, he's been classy, upstanding, and an example of what is possible for those willing to work hard. As a player and a coach, he has embodied and demanded effort, hustle, and good defense.

When I'm in this frame of mind, I'm happy for Nate that after a good season and a job well-done that he's getting a very nice contract.

CONFUSION
At the same time, I just can't get over the thought - what exactly is Nate thinking?

This is long - the rest is here:
http://tinyurl.com/9d4ku

Only 180 miles away ...

2005-07-06T14:32:00.000-07:00

Mom and her beautiful Portland view.

Since there's nowhere an expecting husband would rather be than 180 miles away from his extremely pregnant wife, I'm just thrilled that I'm heading to Portland for the next few days on business. I'm going to make Leigh swear up and down that she won't go into labor while I'm gone; if she reneges on that promise, I'll be extremely disappointed with her.

Actually, as far as business trips go, my Portland trips have become vastly more enjoyable since my folks moved to Camas, Wash. - which, for the uninitiated, is right across the Columbia River from Portland and, thus, Oregon.

Not only is it great seeing the folks more often than, oh, once every year or so, but it's nice to see friendly faces at the end of the day, Mom's cooking humbles and destroys that of any local eatery, and their new house could be described as palatial and beautiful if those two words could be squared, multiplied against each other, encrusted with jewels, and dangled from a gold chain. It's, you know, a half step or two beyond what I'd get at the local Super 8. Their view of the Columbia River Gorge and Portland from the two-story deck is also something to behold - check out the photo.

We always have a lot of fun, but at the same time I'll be wondering about the goings-on with my beloved wife and the small human marinating head-down within her uterus.

Besides a potential birth, I will also be missing another important event. Derek and Rod will be staging a "Being Bobby Brown" TV marathon on Thursday - an event that I am deeply chagrined to miss. Grrr! Hiss! With all the garbage on TV, it pains me to miss out on one of today's more thoughtful and enriching options.

See you all in a few days.

Blast-off imminent?

2005-07-05T14:44:00.000-07:00

Leigh and Sophia - on the "outs?"

The infant miraculously embedded within Leigh's body appears to be growing more and more eager to escape her biological prison. According to the estimable Dr. McDermott, Sophia has pointed herself in the "Action Position" - head-down, and ready to roll. At 37 weeks into the process, she could really come at any time. Other news from the good doctor - Sophia is roughly six pounds at the moment and kicking up a storm. While she is not the gargantuan baby we were warned about a few months ago, she is big enough to be a fully functioning baby when she chooses to emerge.

Given Leigh's two quick-but-notable contractions that woke her up last night, we are going to be packing our bags tonight so that we are fully ready when the time comes - and I finally get to engage in the much-awaited Seattle Grand Prix (also known as driving Leigh to Swedish at white-knuckle speeds).