So Alisa’s past the made-up by modern science due date she was given and it’s driving us crazy.

I get up everyday and think, “This could be the day. Right now? No baby. This evening? Baby. Baby off… Baby on… Baby off… Baby on.”

I’m sure the waiting has something to do with the twitch I’ve recently developed in my left eye. It’s either that or I’ve been drinking Mad Dog 20/20 and I know it’s been 12 years or more since that happened.

And so every awkward pain Alisa has makes me jump. I’m sure she’s tired of me asking if she’s OK every time she has indigestion.

She looks fantastic too and not in a “that’s what you say on the Innanet to make your very pregnant wife still feel attractive” way. I mean, she looks great and not the slightest bit train-wreckish. Looked great before, looks great now but with bump in front.

I’ve been telling Alisa for the past few months that she’s a pro at this. Other than a few aches and pains, and ignoring the bump in front for the point I’m making, you wouldn’t even know she was pregnant. I’ve been telling her, “You should be pregnant more often. You wear it well.” Then she tells me, “You must be high.” I suppose her ease of pregnancy is more an outward perception than her inner feeling.

Any moment now, baby. Whenever you’re ready.

We got this microwave a couple weeks back that, with its 1300 watts of heating power, I give voice to in my head whenever I heat something in it:

“Warm? I’ll show you warm.”
“Monsieur, your lava with chives.”
“Here, take your nugget or whatever it was before.”
“Your plateful of sun awaits. Ding!”

I imagine my microwave makes snarky comments.

Seriously though, 1300 watts heats up whatever you want in seconds. Isn’t living in 2008 just grand?

These last two mornings, I’ve seen a vanity license plate that reads:

PRMSKPR

“Prom Skipper,” I thought yesterday. That makes sense in a way. This guy was too good for his prom and he’s proud of it because he’s extreme or something.

So I saw it again this morning and thought about it some more. Prom Skipper? Why would anyone put that on their plate?

“Ohhhhhh. Promise Keeper.” That makes more sense. Remember those guys?

Then I thought, “Wait a minute. Knowing what the plate is really supposed to be now, my first reading is probably still applicable.” It’s a two-fer!

I haven’t been writing on this here digi-site for a while. Plenty going on in the background though.

My daughter and I recently made the move to New Hampshire to join the hot sweetness and son. We’re selling this place and getting another to start out in. We live in such a vibrant, fun, area. There is just so much to see and do but you never feel like you’re living in the middle of some bustle.

So Isabelle adores her school and especially enjoys having Alisa’s son, Keegan, there. They aren’t in the same classes but they see each other on the playground at the end of the day. Apparently, Isabelle and Keegan spend a lot of time chasing each other around then.

I can’t believe we’re getting married in St. Croix just nearly two weeks from now. I’m giddy. It’s going to be dreamy and I need the vacation. We’ve had this vision, for over a year, of what we wanted to do and it’s just hard to believe it is finally here.

I sold the old house in Maine. I’m surprised it sold so quickly. I don’t think it is remotely indicative of current trends in real estate. It was listed in an area where there are plenty of homes for sale, the town isn’t exactly desirable to the average buyer, and it needs lots of work. Nevertheless, I listed it soon after the start of August and had an offer at the start of September. The buyer wanted a quick close so I only had a month to get everything out of there. That’s not a fun thing to do by yourself. I spent a lot of time, over the summer, purging stuff that I don’t use or want. My garage was filled with items. I had a yard sale at one point over the summer but then I still had a large amount of stuff I didn’t sell. I ended up making a sizeable (a rented U-Haul van full) donation to Goodwill just last weekend.

Anyway, I’m glad to not have that place in my hands anymore. It was a house but was never a home. And for the time after Isabelle was born, nothing but the bad memories and feelings from horrible things that happened filled every room. After separating last year, it was my trap by choice. The place I wanted to be the least but knew I needed to stay in for the stability of my daughter during my divorce. Peh!

My new job is excellent. It’s challenging and fun and there are daily opportunities to grow. I love going there every day. It’s astounding how the business world is so different from something like public education. I’ve got some experience to set things in perspective if I ever find myself being unappreciative.

I guess after this big month of October, the big thing will be looking forward to the new place being built, moving in with the family, and hanging pictures on the walls. Sounds like a dream to me.

So I make this cake for my daughter’s 3rd birthday (with my assistant on scales application duty and excess cake piece disposal). I show it to her the next morning:

Her: A fish!
Me: But what kind of fish?
Her: It looks like Rainbow Fish.
Me: Looks like? It is Rainbow Fish!
Her: Yeah, it is Rainbow Fish.

Like it’s something I’ve convinced myself into. If ever there was a Rainbow Fish in cake form, this is it. Come on now.

The problem presented by making a cake in the shape of a fish is where is it appropriate to begin the first cut? The natural place is before the top fin so it kind of looked like I was chopping off Rainbow Fish’s head in front of the children. They didn’t notice but it still felt weird.

At one point, I unknowingly asked if anyone wanted “a piece of tail” and immediately received snickers from the parents. Come on now.

The alpine slide, to a soon to be 3-year-old, has to be the best thing in all the world. Take what most kids consider to be the best part of any playground and then double, quadruple - no, let’s multiply it by oh like 500 or something - and let ‘em loose. It’s a year’s worth of playground sliding bundled up in one minutes-long span.

I envision my daughter just sitting on playground installations now, staring off into space, telling other kids that the 10-foot descent “just doesn’t do it for me anymore.”

I took this picture of a bumper sticker on someone’s tow-behind trailer over the weekend:

I hate to tell you, man, but your God is kinda lame. Our God though? Our God is an AWESOME GOD! Join us, I think your God will understand.

For some reason, I envision Will Ferrell saying “Our God is an AWESOME GOD” and it cracks me up.

Apparently, it’s a common phrase in the Christian bumper sticker world because here it is as something more flowery. The scripty font doesn’t do it for me though. It needs to be more rockin’ yet hijinxy like the one I took a picture of. I’ll bet that’s exactly what they said when they made it.

Christian Marketer 1: “We’re going to make an Our God is an AWESOME GOD bumper sticker and we are going to sell it and make millions.”
Christian Marketer 2: “OK, I like your thinking on this one but can we make it implied that our God is more rockin’ than theirs?”
CM1: “Hell yeah! I knew I hired you for a reason! But how do we do that?”
(later in the Graphics Department of Christian Bumper Stickers LLC…)
Christian Graphics Guy 1: “How the hell - forgive me Lord - do they expect us to ‘make it rock’ more?”
Christian Graphics Guy 2: “Lose the dove and change the font?”
CGG1: “Hell yeah! I knew I hired you for a reason!”

Well that was what a vacation should be.

Leaving 30-something morning temperatures last Saturday and arriving in the afternoon in beautiful mid-80s St. Croix with a waiting cold Presidente and frozen grapes, courtesy of a resident friend who picked Alisa and I up. Our villa had an expansive view of the Salt River Bay area where Columbus’ crew set foot and fought with the natives during their second trip to the West Indies. I’m a pamphlet reader. There were pamphlets. I read them. I could tell you a thing or two about sugar mills too.

Anyway, highlights of our trip in a handy bulleted list format include:

• SCUBA diving for my first time ever and loving it.
• Great dining and bonus Alisa-so-full dessert add-ons.
• Going to sleep and waking to dreamy views. And the scenery outside wasn’t so bad either.
• Floating about in the villa pool while the sun went down and the first stars of the evening appeared.
• Floating about in the clear white sanded bottom water of Sandy Point National Refuge in view of sea turtle nesting tracks we walked by to get there.
• Inappropriately hot hot sauce on island home cooking…
• …and a cold Caribe in hand to wash it down.

What is it about being on an island that makes an otherwise unacceptable beer totally desirable? Oh yes, I forgot, it’s heat-induced thirst and lack of variety.

Why do people abbreviate “vacation” as “vaca” anyway? Do we save that much by not having to say “tion?” We might as well shorten words like “scissors” and “cheese.”

Eh, I’m all over the place here. Snack time. I’ve got some chee with my name on it.

So, I’m pushing winter down the seasonal stairwell by starting my running program up again. I’m looking to blend in some interval training with some increasing mileage and the interval training led me to this.

The guy developed some Windows Visual Basic scripts that will take an iTunes playlist, limit music to playing for a certain time, and add transition sounds in between time intervals. Then, you just need to take that playlist and transfer to your iPod. The effect is that you can run for however long you want and then the music stops, a transition sound is played, and you can slow down for whatever other duration you want and so on.

Since the scripts are Visual Basic, they work only with Windows iTunes. What isn’t obvious from the site is that your time intervals don’t have to be the same thing over and over again. You can put in a string of different length times and the script will do everything. For instance, 3,4,5:30 will make a 3 minute, followed by a 4 minute, followed by a 5 and a half minute interval, and then it will repeat that pattern for as long as there is music on your playlist.

In this way, you don’t need to look at your watch at all which I have always found to be a distraction when I’ve been running. You just keep doing what you’re supposed to until you hear the cue.

If you download the scripts from the guy’s site, make sure you substitute my replacement transition sound file.

The good: I went for a nice, consistent 45 minute run with my interval method this evening. Also, people doing their laundry drying when you’re running is like a little treat.

The bad: Running in the town where I live results in my mouth tasting like succulent arse.

I saw the national touring production of Les Miserables this past weekend with Alisa, some of her relatives, and friends. That’s a good show.

Last week, before the thing, I got to thinking why you tend to see the same musicals performed in high schools. Grease, Bye Bye Birdie, etc. You don’t see a lot of the more modern stuff. Granted, a lot of the modern stuff is a bit more of a challenge than some of the vocals in shows from the ’50’s and ’60’s.

Of course, the answer is obviously licensing. Some shows are just never released in that way. It turns out, actually, that Les Miserables has a school edition. Can you imagine? This site has a list of some upcoming high school performances across the country.

So, other than the editing for length, I suppose the poor, downtrodden women are smiling milkmaids instead of prostitutes? It says Act II is rated PG so maybe they flirt with some issues. Don’t get any ideas, Fulton High.

Semi-Related: I know a lot of the stuff on IMDB isn’t legit but seriously, read the plot summary for this possible movie in development and tell me you don’t want to see it.