I Prefer E-sharp
Quietly celebrated M's 17-Day Birthday with a quiet ditty some of you may have illegally sung in restaurants. Little tune called Happy Birthday. Think she's starting to get annoyed with it. Which may have something to do with the fact that she's now heard it sixteen times over the course of 2+ weeks of post-womb living at exactly 12:46 pm. Although we were late by a minute today.
Banality be dammed: this has been such an unbelievably cool experience. Sleep loss and fetid diapers fly to the engorged short-term amnesia bin every time I catch her staring at me, unblinking, mouth perpetually in motion, yawning, searching for the magic milk button, fingers twitching like Charlie Parker two minutes into I Didn't Know What Time It Was. Just an unbelievably interesting, entertaining, vulnerable little being, similar to a person almost. A little person with the most bemused eyes I've seen since sub-teaching 7th grade and eliciting a similar response with every apparently lame witty anecdote I told up front.
Well, might as well learn early on that her Dad's a corny kinda dude and has no plans to head in another direction.
Grandpeppy is not unfond of Maggie. It's not settled whether it will be Grandpeppy or Granda. Think Jack Handey for the former, Irish for the latter. Talk about nonparallel analogies. Oh well. It's who we are?
Charlie Parker has one of my favorite remarks about music. Talking about his style:
I try to play clean and look for the pretty notes.