Yeah, that's right, I used the "it" pronoun. I'm tired of the "his/her" business.

Anyway, part of the prep is having a place for The Heir to sleep, eat, and poop. And as a baby, all three can be accomplished in the same room. I tried that once and all it got me was a threat from my wife to spray me with a hose.

The Heir's Chamber required quite a bit of work. First, I was evicted because that spacious room was my office. Then it had to be cleaned out. Then we ordered carpeting. No furniture yet, though. I maintain a milk crate, a couch cushion, and two bungie cords would do the trick, but apparently that's not fashionable. Or responsible. Or legal. But it's easier than painting a mural. I should know, I just painted one.

The Heir's Chamber now has this on a wall. Huzzah!

Here are some close-ups of some of the characters.

The Gill Gang: Don't let their smiles fool you. These fish are hardcore. I painted a shark one night, and the next morning, all that was left was a painting of a shark skeleton and a red tint on half the wall. Plus, the fish were smiling, but I didn't paint them that way. I painted over the scene of the crime and just let them be. I just let them be.

Pinchy: The Host loves crab rangoons. It's the only seafood she'll eat. Which makes me wonder why she wanted a giant crab to be painted on the wall? I hope she realizes that if she's hungry, she can't just carve Pinchy out of the drywall, mix in some cream cheese, deep fry it and then eat it. ... Hm, that sounds pretty good. I know what I'm doing for lunch (just before I call a handyman to fix the drywall).

Soopah: He's an up and coming celebrity, so if you're a paparazzo, take some pics of Soopah. In fact, seeing as how this is a candid pic of Soopah, I might even be a paparazzo myself. Next stop, embarassing photos of Lindsay Lohan. Eh, nevermind, that market is saturated. For now, I'll just stick to pictures of Soopah Star. --Hey, I just got that! Clever.

Dr. Otto Octavius, M.D.: Yes, he has the same name as Spider-Man's archvillain Dr. Octopus's real name. But the octopus people see past Doc Oc's villainous ways and revere him as a hero, a bridge builder between the quadpus (as they call us) and their kind. As such, Otto Octavius is a common name for them, much like Americans like Bob Smith or Terry Bradshaw. I know about a dozen of each! And now we all know at least one Otto Octavius, and he's a doctor to boot!

And please, be polite and don't point out that he only has four tentacles. The Host did that when I painted Otto and it took seven coats of purple paint to completely wash out the octopus tears because their ink glands are also their tear glands. Little known, but true, fact. Well, maybe.

Just now, I stood up and stretched, hitting my hand on the spinning fan blades.

This happened while watching an episode of "The Office" titled "Safety Training."

Seriously.

That would have been really embarassing if I didn't work at home by myself. But since nobody saw it happen, and nobody knows about it, I don't have to feel embarassed at all.

--Oh wait! Crap.

Which makes me, papa-to-be, the unwanted party crasher. On the invitation, I'm like "and guest's guest." Well, consider that party crashed then, because I enjoyed the baby shower tremendously. Then again, any party is awesome after six shots of tequila and anywhere from three to nine beers (I lost count). By the way, if any of the shower attendees are reading this, I lost my camera, my underwear, and one sock. If you found any of them, please send them over.

No, I didn't really get trashed at the baby shower. I save that for only very special occasions, like Thanksgiving and Tuesday afternoons.

The shower was a lot of fun! Friends, family, and lots of baby gifts. We got all kinds of great things, even a robotic babysitter. Sure, The Heir's room is about 25% complete, but it's practically full. The Heir has more toys than I do, and I've been buying toys for 29 years! Well, I'm bigger than s/he will be for many years, so I'll get to play with all those toys whenever I want. What are you going to do about it, Heir? Cry about it? Oh crap, s/he probably will. All night long. For months on end.

Is it too late to register for ear plugs?

And then there's this awesome clip from "Scrubs" that shows what I'm lobbying The Heir's nursery to look like. Thus far my attempts have been rejected, as have my attempts at awesome names, but the struggle continues.

The first conflict was over two months ago, with the release of WordPress 2.5. K2 has still not produced a "release version" that is compatible with the new WordPress. Only in-development snapshots worked, and now that doesn't even work properly with the newly-released WordPress 2.6. Something has to change, and since K2 is the blog's look while WordPress is its functional backbone and security, I'm going to say K2 has to go.

So that's why you see this bland, default look to the blog temporary template while I put something new together. K2 is fired, and now I have to find something else to replace it. It'll take a while, probably a few weeks, but I'll keep writing new posts at least once a week despite the bland look. Maybe that'll motivate me to spice things up a bit. Instead of a pinch of crazy, I'll have to add a whole teaspoon to every post.

And to get things started, here's a little something to liven up this administrative post. The backstory is that my brother-in-law keeps his cell phone in a belt holder and apparently when he sits back in some chairs, he accidentally dials my house. And since I work from home, fielding almost a dozen "ass calls" yesterday became quite the distraction. Since he couldn't hear me playing "2112" with the number keys, I emailed him the following:

I've received eleven calls this afternoon from your cell phone during your meeting. Apparently the phone is bored and made the calls on its own. I think it wants to play "Six Degrees of Separation" with my toaster oven. However, my toaster oven burned my toast yesterday so it's grounded for the week. If it's good about the chicken tonight, maybe I'll let it play this weekend, but don't tell your phone. I don't want to get its hopes up, just in case. But I believe your dad's tea kettle wouldn't mind a phone call, though. It seemed really lonely the last time I saw it. Maybe your phone and tea kettle can get together, order some takeout, make some green tea, and play mahjong. Sounds like a lovely evening!

The "ass calls" stopped shortly thereafter. And yes, the tea kettle is looking forward to a fun weekend.

So we put the cat outside, gave him some food, and eventually he went away. The next day we handed out some fliers, and later a neighbor called saying they found our cat. Turns out it was this strange cat in a not-so-elaborate costume. The costume was basically answering to any name. Shrewdly played, strange cat. Shrewdly played.

"Thanks, but this isn't our cat," and out he went. That night he helped himself to the orange juice, again leaving just a little bit. Talk about inconsiderate! But again out he went. The next morning, now Day 3, he tries to come in for breakfast. Suspecting that he'd eat all but one of my eggs, I escorted him outside. But sure enough, the Universe had some other plans. Winning the lottery? Negative. Acquiring a new cat? Affirmative, it seemed.

So I made up the guest bathroom, threw in a few food bowls, and the almost-empty cartons of milk and OJ. Two weeks later, after a vet visit (since he sounded like Doc Holliday due to congestion) and reacquiring our missing cat, this strange cat got a name (Benny), a larger room (the nursery-in-progress), and half a dozen different beds (seriously).

And just a few days ago, Benny also got a new home when a nice family adopted him from us. The kicker? He never finished those cartons of milk and OJ. I'm glad that family adopted Benny, but I have a feeling that more than a few breakfasts will be ruined by almost-empty juice containers. Yeah, he's cute, but also inconsiderate.

But I'm not inconsiderate, so I'll finish the cartons I still have here with a toast.

Here's to you, Benny! Thank you for hanging out with us and for being awesome. We wish you the very best!

I'm all recovered from the "cat loss-and-recovery" of a couple of weeks ago, and I have some fresh craziness brewing, so expect some more posts this coming week. In the meantime, enjoy your weekend!

Happy Fourth of July!*

(* If you're reading this after July 4th, then substitute the ordered number corresponding to the current date for "Fourth" and the name of the month for "July." For example, "Happy Twenty-Third of August!" is a valid substitution for the above... but only if you're reading this on August 23rd, which is pretty late. Where have you been all this time?)

Y'see, a little under a week ago, the younger of my two kitties (Loki) decided to go on a field trip into the woods behind my house. The result was effectively a manhunt for my feline friend. My wife and I tried lots of different techniques and strategies to try to get him to come back home. One of the primary techniques was to leave our side door (and sometimes front door) open, and during that time we pretty much lived on our living room couches.

And now the couches get to enjoy not having us on them! Why? Because...

Earlier this evening, I took (yet another) look into the woods behind the house and spotted an eye looking at me. About an hour and a half later, I scooped up my cat, he put all his claws into my shoulder, and I brought him home.

It's been an incredible ordeal, and I'm so happy to say that it's happily resolved now. Loki is home, quarantined in a bedroom, and my older cat (Pancho) gets to roam the house now. Although he's blocked off from the quarantine room, and also from the room containing Benny.

Oh, Benny, right. In the first few days after Loki was lost, my wife and I passed out fliers. Shortly thereafter, we had three neighbors bring the same outdoor/stray cat to our house because they thought it was our missing cat. We finally took this cat in and quarantined him in the bathroom (he was congested like he had a cold). Then we started calling him Benny, short for Benicio, and I took him to the vet this afternoon because of the congestion. He got some antibiotics and already sounds a little better.

For me, that is a great and personal example of "do good things and good things happen." Benny got a vet visit and a kibble buffet (and we're going to work on getting him adopted to a good home), and Loki made it back home.

And now, I'm hopefully going to have a nice, relaxing night's sleep. G'night!

That right there is The Heir. Well, that awesome baby in the middle is The Heir. The outside is The Host. Me, I just fertilize and observe. It's a tough job, but I'm up to the task.

The whole sonogram process is really interesting. The sonogram reader uses all kinds of angles and takes many measurements. Sometimes The Host had to lie on her side or sit up a little bit to get The Heir to move around so we might get a required view.

It was very cool seeing The Heir move, but I think we were all shocked when the technician pushed on a certain spot on The Host's stomach and The Heir shifted into this:

I think it's time to revisit "Optimus Prime" as a name.

My wife and I were looking for a swaddling blanket in anticipation of our first baby. Then we found this and laughed for quite a while. Apparently both of our minds are in the gutter, but this doesn't seem like something we want anywhere near our baby. Or your baby. Or anyone's baby.