Letters of the Helfabet

she who puts the "excess" in accessories

2010-04-30T22:39:00.003-04:00

So there went February.

2010-03-04T20:57:00.001-05:00

Busted.

2010-01-20T14:43:00.005-05:00

Walking = elevated risks. Literally.

Aren't full lips in?

A particularly nice angle.

What happens when you mix toddler with hardwoods.

But with all risk comes reward, no?

Last night, pre-fat lip.

Walk on!

AHHHHH!!! A POST!

2009-12-22T14:33:00.005-05:00

I am SO disappointing.

For those of you who check this page regularly, my sincere apologies for disappearing off the face of the earth for the past two months. I blame the perfect storm of fleas and laziness.

And now, I will distract you with a cute picture of Zoë and her father.

Snow!

The holidays are upon us. I love this time of year, even though the season invariably leaves me in a procrastination-induced tizzy. Our Christmas cards just arrived this afternoon, and if I can get them out by tomorrow, it will be the earliest we've ever sent them.

A milk mustache completes any look.

But what I love most about the holidays, aside from the festive lights and general goodwill towards other persons and animals, is that after the tizzy subsides, they offer the elusive pause button - a time to reflect on the past year, to embrace family and friends, and to huddle together, appreciating all we have.

And we have so very much.

Tops on the list, of course, being the funnny little person who shares our home and our genes.

Zoë is a show-stopper these days, and Tim and I are working hard to develop her arsenal of party tricks. Here are her current resume highlights:

She...
- can imitate a monkey, a dog, or Santa Claus when prompted;
- refuses to call me anything other than Beth. As in, "What's my name?" "Bepf." "Say MA-MA." "Bepf." "Who is this maternal creature who could also be called your MOTHER?" "Bepf";
- has, in contrast, called Tim "Dada" since she was eight months old;
- dances to the command "Michael Jackson";
- says "uh-pppppbbbbbth" for both up and down;
- will thump her chest whenever she sees a picture of a gorilla; and
- calls herself "ZOOOOOOH-Zoh."

ZOOOOOH-Zoh.

Truly, each day is more fun that the one before.

So happy holidays, my friends. May your days be merry...

...and bright...

And may you enjoy the D-O-double-G as much as we do:

Zoë turned one, and other stuff.

2009-10-28T21:02:00.006-04:00

You would THINK that of all the days to prioritize updating the blog, October 17th would have fallen high on the list.

On that day, we picked pumpkins.

And played with friends.

And sampled mini-pumpkin pies.

And celebrated the fact that Zoë has been alive for a WHOLE YEAR.

Notice she is STILL clutching the pie in her left hand.

***

And then we developed swine flu. Which sort of put a damper on the celebrations.

Little swiney birthday girl

So we had to spend a week in quarantine.

That got old fast.

But we managed to find ways to entertain ourselves while locked in the house for 120+ hours straight. Without further ado, I present to you:

Quarantine Fun! on Vimeo.

Eleven Month Snapshots

2009-09-23T14:15:00.000-04:00

Off the Wall: Eleven Month Snapshots on Vimeo.

abstract expressionism

2009-09-03T21:01:00.005-04:00

august and everything after

2009-08-31T20:42:00.005-04:00

Remembering the Greats

2009-08-17T20:39:00.018-04:00

This is Zoë's great-grandmother, Nanna.

She's one of Zoë's three living great-grandmothers.

The lucky little girl was born with four. My grandmother Beth, for whom I am named, died in February. We called her Mame.

The two Beths, circa 1982.

Zoë was also born with two living great-grandfathers. But now she only has one. My grandfather Pape, who was married to Mame for 63 years, died in April.

Mame and Pape

Needless to say, this year has been one of beginnings, and of endings. In six months, my dad became a grandfather for the first time and said goodbye to his parents for the last time. The generations shift; time traipses on.

***

Zoë never got to meet her great-grandmother Mame. For her, Mame will exist in funny stories of hams packed in suitcases, in memories of cookie jars and fresh-squeezed orange juice, in her love of jigsaw and crossword puzzles that lives on in my father, and in me, and maybe, in Zoë.

She did get to meet her great-grandfather Pape on a balmy afternoon in March, just after Mame's service.

He had been bedridden since December, and spent most of his hours gazing out the window, dreaming of sailboats and Biscayne Bay. But when he saw Zoë, and she saw him, they recognized each other immediately.

Both wide-eyed, both grinning, both free.

I can still picture that afternoon, the way the sunlight seeped through the blinds, the creases of his papery hands, the glistening blue of his smiling eyes.

***

So much of who we are is what we remember - our memories shape us, connect us, tether us to people, places, moments. Every now and then, I am struck by the realization that Zoë won't remember this time. At least not in a conscious, cerebral way. I have to believe that this year's moments are ingrained in her somewhere deep down, though, like the innermost rings on a tree's concentric lifeline.

I believe that, in part, because of Nanna.

Nanna, whose memory is so elusive, she can't remember where she lives, or who I am, exactly, or that her mother is no longer alive. Or what she just did or said. Or the right words.

Nanna, who continually packs and unpacks her things as if she's going on another trip, and who is always politely socializing with the other ladies on her wing - even though she has no idea who they are.

And Nanna, whose arthritic fingers remember every note.

Nanna at the Piano from Beth Helfrich on Vimeo.

The music is etched in who she is, whether she consciously remembers it or not.

In the same way, I have to hope that somewhere in Zoë are etchings of Nanna, and Big Daddy, and of Mame and Pape, and Nan and Grandaddy, and Grandma and Grandad: The Greats.

In fact, with that lineup, it's no wonder she's so amazing.

So I Lied.

2009-07-19T21:45:00.008-04:00

Um, yeah. When I said, "tomorrow?" I really meant "two weeks from now."

You think I'd have learned by now. The more days that pass between postings, the more daunting the task of capturing them becomes. I have Zoë moments piled up to my earlobes right now. Here are a few tidbits from the last two weeks, in no particular order.

My favorite thing about our new "hometown" is that Tuesday afternoons are officially dubbed "Babies and Beers" at the local watering hole.

Seriously. Those are babies. In a bar.

Zoë cut her chin last week while trying to tackle this funnel.

In the bar.

We finally broke out the hiking backpack on a beautiful Saturday at Chimney Rock.

It was a happy day.

Zoë is nine months old. I feel that those nine months have lasted approximately a nanosecond and an eternity at the same time. I want to write something eloquent about this, for posterity, but words fall short. I don't know that I'll ever be able to explain the way - or just how much - I love her.

So I guess I'll just keep on collecting Zoë moments in my heart. And maybe I'll get around to sharing a few with you, too.

Maybe.

June, in a nutshell: Part I

2009-07-04T21:02:00.005-04:00

I hope to get a series of recaps posted over the next two days; here's the first installment to whet your whistle.

It's a game. I know you like games.

The challenge? Find the common theme in the following June pictures. Find it, and you've pegged an essential component in little Zoë's daily existence; the modus operandi behind everyday forays into this new and exciting world; also, probably the reason she has a cold.

Which one of these is not like the others...

Good luck. And yes, I will address the blue Sahara Desert full-body space suit tomorrow.

paused

2009-06-24T09:02:00.003-04:00

Our little family has temporarily relocated for the summer, and one unforeseen consequence is that I no longer have 24-hour access to the web of internets. Nor do I have the computer on which I have been uploading pictures.

(In case you're worried, detox was a relatively quick and painless process. The scenery has proven quite helpful in my recovery.)

Sadly, this does mean that Helfabet updates will be (even) less regular, but I promise to post some pictures and stories on the following days, when Zoë and I are back at the ranch:

June 26, July 5, July 17, August 5, August 15

Perhaps I'll squeeze in a few more. But no promises. I'm on mountain time.

trouble

2009-06-02T12:38:00.003-04:00

This is what I found when Zoë woke up from her nap yesterday:

June is bustin' out all over!

2009-06-01T12:31:00.002-04:00

Seven Months and Counting

2009-05-18T06:05:00.001-04:00

Zoë demonstrates a few of her many talents:

Lights, Camera, Action!

2009-05-05T17:39:00.003-04:00

Trading Faces

2009-05-01T20:53:00.006-04:00

My brother made the following comment on my last post: "She looks so much like Harold from Harold and the Purple Crayon in the photo where she's reaching out for the bottle."

So true! But Harold is not the first celebrity to whom our little lady has been compared. Behold, the evolution of the Zoë look-a-like:

Chief Clancy Wiggum, of The Simpsons

William H. Macy

The Gerber Baby

Harold, of Harold and the Purple Crayon

As of today, Zoë has TWO teeth... wonder whose famous mug is next??

The Quest for the Holy Ale

2009-04-21T22:35:00.011-04:00

In honor of my brother the screenwriter, I present to you a three-minute short:

FADE IN

INT. LIVING ROOM -- AFTERNOON

A small body squirms, belly down, on a dirty carpet floor. Colorful toys surround BABY ZOË, six months old. She wears a stylish hoodie, pink terrycloth "skort", and shoes too big for her little squat feet. She chews on a crinkly STAR TOY.

She catches sight of herself in the mirror.

She is looking gooooood.

The voice of her mother, BETH, interrupts the reverie.

BETH (O.C.)
Zoë! Zoë, look over here!
(whistling)
Hey, boogie!
Squirt!
(odd duck noises, squeeks, etc.)

ZOË turns to her mother, flashing a dimpled grin.

Soon her attention turns back to the STAR TOY.

With one last glance at her mother...

ZOË attacks.

She gnaws all five points of STAR TOY, drool coating her hands and hoodie. BETH continues to make embarrassing animal noises in hopes of catching ZOË'S attention, but to no avail.

Suddenly, ZOË freezes. Something on the coffee table catches her eye.

She studies it, cheeks full of contemplation.

ZOË
(high-pitched shriek)

BETH retrieves the forbidden object - a half-consumed BOTTLE of GINGER ALE. She places it on the carpet just out of reach of ZOË, who is panting with excitement.

ZOË finds this incredibly frustrating and unfair.

But soon ZOË'S determination - and the lure of shiny plastic - propels her forward. She shimmies and stretches for the GINGER ALE, slowly creeping her way across the rug. She is just about there...

When gravity foils her plan.

ZOË
(angry crying)

Exhausted, ZOË faceplants.

At which point BETH scoops her up and carries her upstairs for a nap.

FADE OUT

to appease zoë's demanding fan base...

2009-04-21T09:05:00.002-04:00

a few pictures from Easter, courtesy of my sister-in-law. More later.

six months ago today...

2009-04-16T22:58:00.002-04:00

I looked like this.

And this.

And then...

everything changed.

a poll: REVISED

2009-04-06T21:16:00.005-04:00

Editor's Note: I've been accused (by more than one reader) of rigging the poll based on the two pictures I selected as Exhibits A and B. An independent committee has selected a new photograph for Exhibit A, which you can now find below.

During pregnancy, I was met with two questions at least once a day: "When are you due?" and "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" Fortunately, I had an answer at the ready: octobereighteenthyesit'salittlegirlwe'resoexcited!

Now that she's arrived, the questions are just as predictable but not as easy to answer.

You: Is she a good sleeper?
Me: Yes, she's really easy, or I mean, she WAS, until this week, I guess, because now she's waking up at midnight, and three, and six, and sometimes also four in there, and she's never really been a good napper, but I guess I'd rather have a better night sleeper than a napper, you know, and she has always been a good night sleeper, like 8:30 to 5, which is great, but this week has been rough and maybe she's teething?

The other is "Who does she look like?" Frequently people will skip this one, though, and just say, "Oh my goodness she looks EXACTLY like Tim!" or "Oh my goodness she looks EXACTLY like you!"

What do you think, dedicated readers? Leave your answer in the comment box and I'll tally the votes!

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit Z

a poem.

2009-04-03T22:22:00.009-04:00

Zoë wears...

polka dots in pink and red,

an oversized daisy on her little bald head,

half of the rice cereal she was fed,

purple pajamas, and eyelids of lead.

The End.

as it turns out...

2009-03-10T14:22:00.006-04:00

photographing a baby becomes more difficult when she can move.

marching on

2009-03-05T10:45:00.006-05:00

I have been clobbered in the face by a particularly nasty cold.

It set up camp last Saturday and has yet to leave. Every time I get a cold, I find I've forgotten just how terrible they really are. Now I've passed it on to Zoë, which leaves me with all sorts of guilt. It was inevitable, really, given our proximity and the trajectory of my constant sneezing, hacking, sniffling, and, oh, BREATHING.

I know that babies get sick, and we've been lucky that she's been healthy all winter, but STILL. Babies are supposed to get sick from daycare and strangers and older siblings and baby gym classes and NOT their MOTHERS, who are supposed to keep them SAFE and HEALTHY and not infect them with Rhinoviruses and other potentially life-threatening illnesses. Maybe not life-threatening, but at least awful enough to make you want to crawl in a hole and die, which is exactly what I've wanted to do all week.

Clearly, she's tougher than I am.

Thank you for letting me whine for a moment. I needed it.

Moving on. March is here! What is it they say about lions and lambs and spring months? I can't recall, but what I do know is that this March is BRINGING IT. We started with 4+ inches of snow Sunday night and another day off of school. Of course, the winter wonderland melted before I could get the camera battery charged. (BTW: Tim found the charger plugged into our bedroom wall. Go figure.) But I did get two pictures of Zoë inside.

Here she is bundled up for a trip to Granci's for dinner:

I can't imagine what she's thinking.

Here she is wearing her lovely snowflake dress, courtesy of her fashion-forward cousins.

She calls this pose "Blue Steel."

I recently stumbled across a blogger who is taking daily pictures of her five-month-old's outfits. My initial reactions: What a ridiculous idea. Can you GET any more self-indulgent? Who has that kind of time? Who cares what your kid is wearing? However, seeing as I keep checking that blog to find out what the child is sporting today - and I must admit, this particular kiddo is one haute bebe - I have decided that taking pictures of Zoë's outfits is exactly what I'd like to do. At the very least, perhaps this will force the issue on this whole posting thing, because I sure can't seem to make it happen by myself.

Zoë, however, continues to breeze through her New Year's Resolutions. The little booger.

Movin' on up!

Recent accomplishments:
-Rolling from back to front (Valentine's Day)
-Sucking her thumb (SO CUTE... for now)
-Playing with her feet (though she can't seem to hang on for long)
-Watching Otis (she'd like to be able to grab him, but he's wary of those little hands)
-Sleeping sans swaddle (ALL NIGHT)
-Giggling (apparently Tim is the most hilarious thing on the planet)

And Sophie the Giraffe is de-lish.

The two skills she has not yet mastered are taking a bottle and napping in her crib. X + Y = Zero. As in zero time away from baby during the day. The only way I can get her to sleep for more than 20 minutes is to snuggle up with her in our bed and nap with her. FOR TWO HOURS. On the one hand, a two-hour nap! On the other hand, a two-hour nap? I don't have that kind of time to burn.

Especially when my baby-free evenings are jam-packed with important matters such as American Idol and Lost. And The Biggest Loser. On second thought, maybe that nap is the most productive two hours of my day, after all. I mean, I AM battling the Rhinovirus. And it's not pretty.

But these two are.

Makes me feel better already.

rainbow bright meets flashdance

2009-02-26T18:18:00.004-05:00

Sorry for the lack of postings/pictures as of late; our camera is out of batteries and the charger is in a very safe and logical place that I have not yet located.

But! We have a camera on the computer, so here is an impromptu photo shoot, starring Zoë and yours truly.

The End.

shameless, unadulterated bragging

2009-02-15T18:52:00.016-05:00

I finally caved and took Zoë to have "portraits" taken yesterday. I was pleasantly surprised at the photographer's efficiency and ability to get Z to smile. I was even more surprised that I managed to escape without purchasing $300 worth of portraiture, despite that same photographer's concerted efforts. I was shocked that no one offered me thousands of dollars and a modeling contract.

Because HOLY SMOKES this kid is cute. Objectively speaking, of course.

I mean, seriously.

Where did she COME from?

Don't answer that. Rhetorical question.

today's post brought to you by the letter ë.

2009-02-07T09:47:00.001-05:00

Z - O - E (dot dot) is sixteen weeks old! Here's a little post to nibble on in her honor, along with (finally) some new pictures.

Tim and I tried to keep our potential baby names a secret during my pregnancy -- with limited success. It didn't help that we were pretty sold on Zoë from the get-go. As it turns out, nine months is a long time to keep a secret. Especially if your initials happen to be TWH.

What we couldn't agree on (besides whether or not to KEEP OUR MOUTHS SHUT) was the spelling. A serious Salinger fan, Tim was partial to Zooey; I was convinced - rightly so, I still maintain - that this would result in the unfortunate mispronunciation ZOO-ee for the rest of her life. But neither Zoey nor Zoe struck our fancies. We loved the sound, hated the look.

Don't be a hater, Mom.

Except. There was Zoë. I didn't know or care what the dots meant. I just liked 'em. To me, they added a little pizazz, a little flare. Not ONLY does the name have a Z, it also has curious dots. Whee! What more could a girl want?

Turns out the dots are actually legit. Here is a mini-lesson from an admitted grammar freak on two dot punctuation, or the diacritic.

There are two types of diacritics: umlauts and tremas. Contrary to popular opinion, the dots in Zoë's name are not an umlaut. (Though it would be pretty sweet if her name DID have an umlaut.) An umlaut signifies a different pronunciation of a certain vowel.

The trema signifies that the second of two vowels should be pronounced separately. You may have seen it in words like naïve, or perhaps coöperation (if you read the New Yorker). So Z's two dots mean that her name does not rhyme with "toe."

For the practical application of said dots, all you need is a simple keycode. On a Mac, you press option/u, then the e. Easy, right? On a PC, it's a little trickier. You hold down the left "ALT" key, then enter 0235 using your numeric keypad. I think.

Somëtimës I likë to put thë dots on all my "ë's", just for kicks.

So there you have it. The funny thing is, legal names are no longer allowed punctuation (due to an ever-increasing number of punctuated names over the past few years), so Zoë's real name is Zoe. But we'll keep rocking the dots anyway.

Everyone needs a little flare, right?

R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

2009-01-26T22:54:00.005-05:00

I. LOVE. PHOTOSHOP.

Clueless.

2009-01-24T10:42:00.006-05:00

I like to consider myself a person who is good at figuring thing out. Good at navigating, good at puzzles, good at fixing broken crib mobiles. My brain likes the challenge of trying to solve problems, and so far, it has a decent track record, which leaves me fairly confident when it comes to new challenges. Maybe overly confident. Fortunately, this bravado has only endangered our lives once, when we found ourselves driving in circles around Florence, Italy, right about the time our departing plane was set to board, and I was pretty sure Papa J was going to kill me, or at least call me a moron, which at that point in my relationship with his son might have been even worse.

But we made the flight and Papa has only called me a moron a handful of times, so I've continued to swagger through life without asking for directions.

Until now.

On Monday, we got a new computer (eep!) and a printer (yee!) and Creative Suite 4: Design Premium, which is the mac-daddy of design software (great googly-moogly!). On Wednesday, I happily uploaded the software and readied my mouse for an afternoon of "messing around" with Photoshop and InDesign and Illustrator, and realized that I have NO IDEA what I'm doing. Not only that, but I also have no idea how to even BEGIN to figure it out. This is a very strange feeling, this helpless feeling, and I am not quite sure how to handle it.

For the time being, I'm going to choose to ignore these snazzy programs with their fancy elemental icons and sophisticated terminology and wait until a Mac Genius appears to me in a vision.

All is not lost, though. I have downloaded a set of Photoshop "actions" (read: CHEAT SHEET) from thepioneerwoman.com and managed to alter a few photos this morning. Do not be fooled. I promise you, I am a Photoshop moron.

Dad and Zoë, before

Dad and Zoë, after. Okay, yes, I am a little proud of the orange logo. That took some figuring out.

Profiles, before

Profiles, after

Now you see the fan accessory on Z's head...

Now you don't!

snow day!

2009-01-20T11:29:00.003-05:00

We're all home today; school has been cancelled due to "inclement weather."

I love the South.

three is the magic number

2009-01-17T14:38:00.007-05:00

Little Zoë,

You are three months old today. According to veteran moms and baby books, this is a major milestone - the moment you transition from blobby infant into bubbly baby. There's some legitimacy to this. Just this week, you rolled over and giggled! Way to tackle your to-do list, baby.

I'm not so sure about the whole milestone concept, though. At three months, you have transitioned from a blobby infant into a bubbly baby. But it didn't happen today. It happened every moment of every day since you first came to be. You are changing constantly, and what I'm now realizing is that you will always be changing, unfolding slowly, one day at a time, for the rest of your life.

For now, you've grown increasingly aware of your surroundings and the curious beings which inhabit them (your dad and I included). Now, you follow us with your eyes and are quick to offer a dimpled grin when we talk to you. Yesterday saw our first ever game of peek-a-boo. Hard to know who enjoyed it more.

You have discovered your hands and use them to swat and grab the dangling elephants on your bouncy seat. You also pull your fists towards your mouth and slurp, slurp slurp until a) a digit finds its way in or b) you get frustrated and let out an exasperated cry. You're pretty obsessed with this, much to your dad's chagrin. He thinks it's unbecoming of you. Of course, he also refers to you affectionately as either "Stinky" or "Toaster," so what kind of refined lady could he possibly expect you to be?

When we put you down under your mobile or the crazy disco sunshine, your face lights up. You really get going, legs churning, arms punching, cooing and smiling. Then you give yourself the hiccups and we have to remove the source of overstimulation, pronto.

You're an easy baby. You eat well and sleep well. You love to be changed, to be upright, to fall asleep with your pacifier. You also love to watch television. We are trying to limit this, but it's tough these days, what with college hoops and NFL playoffs and your mom's recent discovery of The Food Network. Right at this very moment, you are sitting on your dad's lap, watching the Wildcats destroy Georgia Southern and chomping on your fists. Your dad is shaking his head, but I'm not sure if it's because of your fist-eating or because Steph is 1-11 from behind the arc.

I write all this because it's what I know about you. And in truth, it's not much.

Because while we know what you do, we don't really know who you are. Not yet, at least. This is one of the many beautiful things about parenthood, I think: Every day, as you discover your world, we discover you.

The other night, the three of us were in the kitchen just before dinner. I was holding you, and your dad was laughing. Suddenly, you laughed back, which made us laugh, which made you laugh again. We went back and forth, laughing at each other. It didn't last long, this little exchange, and ended with us in tears and you with the hiccups. But it was, for us, a magical moment. Just the three of us, laughing ourselves silly.

I have so many questions about who you are and who you'll become. A small part of me wants you to hurry and grow up, already, so I can know your favorite color and what words you'll mispronounce and how fast you can run. But the rest of me knows to sit, patiently, and watch you unfold, one day at a time, for the rest of my life.

I think I can handle that.

Love,
Mom

cootie

2009-01-09T15:14:00.017-05:00

Zoë is twelve weeks old today, and in honor of this milestone, I cooked up something extra special for all you dedicated blog readers: An interview with her Uncle Curtis!

Now, humor me and kindly ignore the fact that this is only my second post and I'm already turning elsewhere for material - not to mention the fact that I am blatantly copying my favorite cousin-by-marriage-whom-I've-never-met, Erin, who frequently interviews family members and who is much better at this than I. I humbly bow at your feet, MO Mommy blog-master.

Good. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, there are a few things you need to know about Curtis. First, he is one of Zoë's eight uncles. Eight. And while she loves each of them dearly, Curtis has a special place in her heart because he comes to see her daily. Rather, Curtis has a special place in my heart because he comes to see us daily. And he brings me coffee. And the three of us watch "The Price is Right" together.

Lucky for us, Curtis lives nearby these days, thanks to a variety of weird circumstances I like to refer to collectively as FATE. He was at the hospital when Zoë was born and waltzed into the delivery room to meet his little niece bearing a six-pack and three chicken sandwiches for the new dad and mom, respectively. We love Curtis.

Curtis was a German major at Duke, then an English teacher in Japan. Now he is taking courses to prepare for physical therapy school, volunteering with the homeless soccer team at Urban Ministry Center, and working with stroke patients as a rehab technician at a hospital downtown. Oh yes, and he just adopted a little gimpy kitten named Kevin Bacon.

This kid has a heart of gold.

Here's what he had to say today.

Okay. This is a very serious interview. I expect honest answers. What is your favorite thing about Zoë?
Her cheeks.

Good answer.
And her butt.

What, specifically, about her butt do you most like?
It's quite large and round, and, uh, that's about it, specifically. I don't know her butt too well besides that.

*Editor's Note: Keep in mind that enormous cloth diapers cause Zoë's butt to appear much larger than it actually is.*

And, speaking of, why haven't you changed a diaper yet?
I blame Granci.

Can you elaborate?
She likes to do it more than I do.

Fair enough. Okay. How has Zoë changed over the last twelve weeks?
Her eyelashes are longer. (Pause) She is smiling and laughing more. Um, she - she is playing with her toys. She experienced a Davidson/Duke game.

And who do you think she was cheering for?
Davidson. I know she was cheering for Davidson.

Thanks for the segue into basketball, which doesn't really relate to Zoë but is something I wanted to talk to you about.
Okay.

When you were a Cameron Crazy, what was your favorite cheer?
My favorite cheer (pause) would have to be (long pause)... hmm, that's a good question. I think - there's two that come to mind. The first one is at the tip-off, when you jump - everybody jumps up and down in rhythm, to the beat of a bass drum, until the ball is tipped. And then, as soon as the tip is made, they start with a "Let's Go Duke" chant, the standard. Then my other favorite one is when everybody yells, "Bounce!" when there's a dribble, "Pass!" when there's a pass, and "Shoot!" when they shoot it.

Yeah, that is a good one.
And then my other favorite one is when they start counting down too early on the shot clock and they make the team shoot before the shot clock's out.

The opposing team.
Yes, the opposing team.

Did you like me as a child?
Yes. I liked you a lot, Beth.

Okay. Good. What sport do you think I could beat you in? Be honest.
Umm... any sport that involves dancing? Probably figure skating. Gymnastics. There's (looong pause) I know there's something else. You used to be able to beat me in soccer, when we were young.

When I had, like, two feet on you?
When you were bigger and stronger than me.

That didn't last long, that time. What's your favorite ice cream?
That would have to be lemon ice cream from Carolina Cones.

And when are we going to go get some?
Probably tomorrow.

Okay. What do you like most about your new job?
I like - I like when a patient has a request, like "I would like some orange juice," or, "Can you bring me the TV remote?" and I'm able to do it very easily.

Would you like me to make those requests of you more often?
(Laughs) Yes! But I would not like for you to have a stroke.

That's good clarification. What's your favorite game on "The Price is Right"?
Hmm. Another good question. (Pause) What is my favorite game on "The Price is Right"?

Take your time.
There's one - I'm not even sure what the game is - there's a little, I guess there's like a little set of a mountain climber -

Oh, yeah, the mountain climber game!
The mountain climber game, where the mountain climber goes up the thing, and it's playing this yodeling music, and if the mountain climber goes too far and falls off the mountain then you lose. I always liked that one. But I also like your standard Plinko.

What was the one we watched today that was really cool? Bop - Bonk It?
Half Off?

No, the one with the Army guy running around trying to do it? What was that called?
Not Flip-Flop. I don't know what that one was called.

That was a new one. Bonk It, or something.
Bonk It.

When do you think you'll get to go on "The Price is Right"?
Hopefully as soon as possible. I'd like to go on - maybe that's a good thing I should do this year.

Seems like a good goal for '09.
(Laughs) Yeah. Maybe that's my New Year's Resolution.

Any other goals for the coming year?
Goals for the coming year... Yeah, I've got lots of goals for the coming year. I'd like to get good grades in my classes. I would like to complete a half-Iron Man. I would like to go to the U.S. Homeless World Cup. Well, I guess it's not really a World Cup if it's U.S. The U.S. Cup in Washington, DC, over the summer. I would like to... be on "The Price is Right"!

(Giggles) Who's the better pool player, you or Tim?
(Very long pause)

(Laughing)
That's not a good question. That's a little obvious. All you have to do is look on the chalkboard at Mom's house.

Alright. Moving on. What are you most looking forward to doing with Zoë this year?
I am looking forward to - maybe some words, maybe some walking and talking. Maybe swimming in the pool with Zoë. Maybe changing a diaper or two.

Great. Do you think your new role as a father of a young cat is going to make you a better or more negligent uncle?
I'll be a better uncle. There's no doubt about that.

What's been your biggest parenting challenge so far?
How to deal with biting.

Ooh. That's tough.
I think the best way is - you stick a finger down their throat when they bite your hand, so they gag.

Should I try that when Zoë starts teething?
Mmhmm. Just gag her.

"Just gag her." Nice. Alright, is there anything else you'd like to share with our millions of blog readers out there?
You know, I'm very happy and privileged to be the first person interviewed for the blog, and I see nothing but good entries for the future.

Well, you've really set the bar high, Curtis. I appreciate it.
My pleasure.

Resolved.

2009-01-04T18:46:00.005-05:00

Welcome, 2009! Glad you're here. 2008 will be tough to beat, what with the birth of our daughter and the Olympics and all, but we have high hopes for you, oh-nine. We think you have great potential as a year of firsts.

In fact, 2009 may be the first year I actually keep a New Year's resolution. I've never been all that good at the whole resolution thing. This is due in part to the fact that I'm generally happy with myself and my life. But mostly it's due to excessive laziness.

And now I have this to distract me, to boot.

That being said, Tim and I were discussing our hopes for 2009 and we came up with the following goals:

Tim: Make our home all that it can be. Cook new dishes. Keep things clean. Complete a half-Iron Man in September. Keep baby alive.

Beth: Finally give in to intense pressure coming from dear mother-in-law and create a blog. Learn to use all of the sweet programs that come with Creative Suite and create sweet stuff. Complete a half-marathon in September. Keep baby alive.

We were feeling pretty good about ourselves until we thought about Zoë's goals for the year.

She's an overachiever.

Zoë: Giggle. Master thumb-sucking. Discover my toes. Discover my dog. Take my boat out in the pool. Double my body weight. Take longer naps. Gain another cousin. Ride in the jogging stroller. Roll from front to back. Roll from back to front. Go hiking. Sit up. Crawl. Grow teeth. Grow hair. Speak. See the ocean. Stand. Eat solid foods. Walk. Stay consistently cute enough while doing all of the above so mom will continue to update her new blog in order to show me off to friends and family.

I'm pretty sure she's going to bat a thousand.

All in all, 2009 should be a good one around here. I'll try my best to keep up.