Archive for August, 2011

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

Posted by Will on August 28, 2011

We figured it was time to swap the summer heat and humidity of D.C. and the continuous diaper interchange with the summer heat and humidity of Georgia/Florida and the higher challenge of swim diapers.

I jest.

We have been looking forward to our beach trip for months. I, personally, had some reservations about flying with a squirming, fidgety, wriggling 7 month old and the problems sand could present when hidden amongst the folds and rings of Nola’s meaty thighs. But, both fears were alleviated, any disaster was averted, and we had a great time with family and friends.

Before we hoofed it down to the Gulf of Mexico, we made a pit stop in Lawrenceville. Brittany and Nola got to spend time with her parents while I organized a festive get-together to celebrate the bachelorship of my good friend (and frequent blog commenter) Ben T.

Frankly, I had a great time hanging out with Ben and bunch of other folks from our hometown and college days. Some of these guys are my closest friends that I don’t get to see very often so there was nothing better than a “last hurrah” with Ben and the boys.

The next day, David and I met everyone up in Athens to celebrate our grandmother’s, Mama Marge, [redacted]th birthday along side her brothers, children, nieces, nephews, grandchildren, and great-grandchild (that would be our very own, Nola) with comforting amounts of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, road-stand tomatoes, sweet potato soufflé, etc. Of course, David and I made a detour to the Varsity for a few chili dogs (under the ruse of securing a birthday peach pie, a Mama Marge favorite).

The rest of the week was spent at our (David and I’s) childhood beach vacation locale — Destin, Florida … specifically, a spell at the Beach House condominiums.

This was Nola’s first time at the ocean and it looked like our outings at the local pools, splash parks, and occasional half-filled bath tub paid off as she had a salty blast in the briny emerald Gulf. As soon as we unloaded Monday afternoon, we squeezed her into her porpoise swimsuit and literally got her feet wet before we did anything else.

The following mornings that week were spent in the sea and sand. The Gulf was placid enough to spend at least a good 30 minutes with our baby girl splashing and kicking under the sun (this all depended on Nola’s waning attention and attrition). The second act in the afternoon was filled puttering around in the pool with naps of varying length in between.

It was a bit shocking (yet not totally surprising) that the beaches were pretty empty and quiet … it being the beginning of the school year and all. Since we have started going to Destin when David and I were young tykes, the area has slowly yet steadily grown and developed to obscene proportions. Empty stretches of highway have been filled with strip malls, outlet stores, and residential properties. In fact, the main highway expanded from two to four lanes quite some time ago.

Destin had transformed from a quiet town west of Panama City to a congested, money-grubbing, sprawling megatown. Yet, for this week, it was quiet and empty … a perfect time for us.

I am very thankful to get a moment to be able to spend with my family, to be with Nola and Brittany all day, and to set aside time, especially during a very busy point at work, to get away from it all.

We were abruptly cut short by the pending Hurricane Irene so we made early arrangements to come back to town.

All-in-all, it was a great time of camaraderie and rejuvenation.

2 Comments on this post | Published in Baby Bram, Photos, Travel

Reinventing the Will

Posted by Will on August 18, 2011

I am very image conscious. It is certainly one of my many flaws. Admittedly, the following screed is one filled with self-pity and is generally an ode to a fallen institute.

Over the years, the physical feature that has probably defined me the most has been my hair and how it was styled.

Sometime during my freshman year in high school, during the kickoff of my punk listening days, I found a CD liner photo of a bleached blond elaborately coifed bassist and took it to my middle-aged stylist, who coincidentally, also fashioned my mother’s hair, to emulate the whiz-bang cutting to the best of her ability. Thus the spiked doo was spawned to live, for a period of time, in high school notoriety.

I could probably dedicate at least 1,000 words to chronicle the literal rise of my hair but that would be more self-serving than anything.

During the summer, between Freshman Orientation at UGA and my move in to McWhorter Hall (R.I.P.), I decided, for reasons I’m still uncertain of, to grow my hair out (I still got the occasional red and blonde streaks that hade become a standard along with hirsute stalagmites). By the time that first fall semester rolled around, I had tresses almost to my shoulders. Haircuts became less frequent and my mane grew to a ungainly depth and unfortunate (the opinion of some, especially my grandmother) length. In short, it was a celebration of hair; wild, untamed, uncultivated hair. And you know what? I ate it up.

Through my collegiate years, I had the occasional trim (whether it be from a friend or a pro) but the fashion never really wavered from being “long”. Although, there was the unfortunate time I went to Great Clips and received what was later coined “The Reverse Mullet” (party in the front, business in the back). I believe that is the last time I paid a “professional” under $10 for a haircut. Never again.

It has now been four years since graduating from college but I never really progressed past the long swooping hair. Sure, I have had a lot of pressure (primarily from Brittany) to try something a little shorter and for periods I have acquiesced. Yet, I never took that direction to another level.

One thing I did discover though is that the best person to cut a man’s hair is a man. Men, if you need a good recommendation for a hair stylist in D.C., just let me know.

Two things physically occurred since I moved up to the Delmarva area. The first was I was inspired by Brittany to take up running, at least, semi-seriously.

When we spent our last few months in Athens right after we got married, we did some jogging together at the State Botanical Garden of Georgia. But, it wasn’t until we moved into the concrete jungles of the District that we ran consistently. Since then, I dropped the fried chicken and PBR lunches, started to eat moderately more healthy, and got more active (thus dropping 40 – 50 pounds; yes, I weighed 235 when we moved onto 10th Street). Biking and walking to work and being carless also helped.

That coincided with a noticeable thinning of my hair in the front, the second physical change (at least, from my perspective).

Now, those of you who knew me since high school might point to the numerous hair products I used to achieve those two inch long prongs of hair. Indeed, there was a lot of chemical product used to achieve the hold required to establish my skyscrapers of mane. There is no argument there. Or you could suggest the coloration processes my hair endured (yes, my hair did change four different colors within a 72 hour period once) may be the foundation to my calamity.

But I don’t think the cause is chemical (from a man-made manufactured sense).

Or you could call it an ironic twist of fate (that would probably be a bit more accurate).

Honestly, I don’t know what the change stems from. I have no clue regarding my medical history, what my blood relatives’ hairlines look like but I would be willing to be it’s hereditary (speaking of, in a adopted sense, losing hair would fall inline with my Mom’s side of the family anyway).

Yet, that’s neither here nor there. This issue is really about acceptance. For all of the building up of my hair (and in this case, my ego), this is about coming to grips with change and accepting it.

I’m fairly comfortable with my body but this was an issue that really struck a chord with me. This was a change I was not ready for. This was a cruel destiny afforded to me which simply was not fair (right?).

It’s been a week since I took a pair of clippers to my head. It took me an hour but hey, cutting your own hair ain’t the easiest thing in the world.

Part of my doesn’t know what I was so worried about. True, it’s obvious my hair has receded and thinned in the front but at the end of the day, that’s just who I am. The other part mourns my loss when I glance at my reflection in the Metro car window in the mornings.

But really, truthfully, I’m over it. I have more important things to worry about and have greater things that define me.

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Nola Lately: Anxiety

Posted by Will on August 10, 2011

One new trait Nola has been exhibiting lately is noticeable unease to the verge of tears when she is unwillingly apart from myself or Brittany (with the primary target being Brittany).

It’s hard for her to be at peace in the arms of even the most familiar (she’ll often be on the verge of tears when I’m with her and Brittany leaves the immediate area).

While it is nice to know that she recognizes us as her primary sources of care/love/food/etc. we would also like for her to be comfortable with others we know and trust.

Sure, it’s certainly (hopefully) just a stage within her early development but it’s one we’re both ready for her to move on from.

See it larger.

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