I'm back, but my post is lame.

I had this idea that I could tie my hatred for libertarian economic political theory to the advent of our societies wish to refudiate social programs in the name of "budgets". I can't decide if my post was more about my sadness of societal decisions, or the love of my daughter and the potential diminished services she is facing as she ages. Either way, it isn't in the theme of this blog.

So instead of a politically abrasive blog, I'll post a picture of my daughter near our banana tree!




And quickly talk about my favorite new event: when screamy, and that's often, in order to subdue her tirade of whaaa! I'll take her outside. She never complains over temperature, she just enjoys the sunshine and the change in surroundings. Screaming ceases. As our sun is blazing and bright in the summer, we'll often bask under our Banana Tree in the partial shade. Sadie, true to form, loves to hear the rustle of the leaves as they gently sway in a arid summer breeze.

X-baby banana

My daughter is a mutant X-men style. She's got Professor X like powers and she's willing to use them. Last night, after we had put her down to sleep, I went into her room. I just looked at her for a moment, and the mutant er...my daughter suddenly startled.

When she startles she looks a little like a tiny symphony conductor blasting her arms up in the air as a piece of music hits an apex of sound. Once those arms menacingly arise, they quiver as though encouraging the orchestra to keep the time and pace of the musical score. I, in awe filled terror last night, scurried away as quickly as my tip toed steps would allow.

I told my wife that I was statuesque, resting for a solid 7 seconds staring and her with the only sound emanating from my body being love and breath. Christie replied, "She senses you." "What do you mean?" "She's aware in ways we aren't."

****

The other exciting event of the day was our donation. We had some eggplant bushes that had taken over the garden. They were blocking sunlight form our carrots and leaks and had to go. So I pulled them up. Sadly, my wife and daughter decided they didn't like Eggplant. So I cut every edible eggplant off of the bush, put the bushes into a tumble-composter. I easily had 40 pounds of eggplant. They filled up 3 giant plastic bags we had.

I took them to a local food bank at a Church, to which the lady asked: "why the donation?"
"We can't eat all of these."
"My family can," she quipped with a grin.
Delighted I left her with lots of eggplants she can use that we can't. I hope tomorrow night at dinner, someone somewhere is eating eggplant that we grew in our garden.

The perfect banana

I swear I am not a blog addict, and in fact came upon this through the twitter feed of some sports writer I enjoy. There has been no contact with the author and I've never even read another post by this author. However the credit for the inspiration of this post is here. It is well worth the read.

A lot of times we struggle with the idyllic perception of perfection only to come up short. Recently I had a bulbous pimple right on my sit spot that forced me, in humiliating fashion, to ask my wife to examine and perform surgery. My wife, the great sport, sympathetically told me, "No." My struggles in marriage.

Earlier today my wife exclaimed that I should attempt to feed Sadie. All of my previous attempts involved massive baby meltdowns complete with mucus spit ups. When our crying alto soloist gets worked up into a nice sweaty ball of uncontrollable angst - she'll calm down a moment and then wretch, bulge her eyes and then eject viscous clear liquid I can only describe as "sticky" and "ew." My association of feeding Sadie solids has been one of hazard. She actually did not work herself into a tizzy today, but instead tried a new tact. Her mouth became a sealed vault where nothing shall pass. After 10 tries of ramming a banana puree loaded spoon against her sealed mouth, exacerbated, I handed over the tools to my wife. Immediately my daughters mouth became unsealed, wagged, and pleaded for mom to insert her favorite food into her cavernous welcoming gobbling spot. Hands into the air, hmpth's stated, I sat on a couch watching my daughter ravenously devour. My struggles with daughter.

I am the king of poorly executed DIY projects. I am a perfect engineer in that I understand how to do everything, how everything works and why things need to happen in a particular way. I am however, poor in execution. Actually poor is a bit generous. In Arizona we do not have lawns. Actually lawns are frowned upon as they use a lot of water and generally have to be seeded twice per year for each season (hot and less hot). We do have a lot of shade trees and drought tolerant bushes.

Huge industry revolves around people trimming bushes to look like spherical lollipops or cubist paintings. Apparently it is totally taboo to have any sort of plant adhere to its natural shape; instead we must manufacture man's touch upon nature and turn these growing monstrosities into neat geometrical shapes. We have 9 bushes in our front yard of which 4.5 actually require attention more than once a year. When we moved into our house I was approached by a company who trims bushes.
"How much?"
"$40"
"Is that a yearly fee?"
"Each time - $40."
"I have 4 bushes to trim. Is that ten dollars a bush?"
"Flat fee per house."


I bought an electric hedge trimmer for 40 bucks 3 years ago. I used it yesterday. My shapes aren't very good, but they pass the almighty HOA's pay-a-fine-for-ugly-bushes test. I think my neighbors hate me. Yet I'm contemplating whether or not 40 bucks is worth it.

We have a pool. Standing water, potable water, is a precious resource for insects. Last year hornets laid claim to our pool. I know right where their nest is - approximately. Their lair of hatred and pointy stingers and terror is somewhere in the middle of the biggest bush. The one that requires the most attention. Yesterday I got out the trimmers, unrolled the extension cord, examined the biggest bush, and immediately rolled the extension cord to other bushes with less growth and no hornets. Once the weather cools they go dormant and I can trim the bush and attempt to kill their nest. It is not yet cool enough.

As I was nearly done trimming the last bush in my daily work (the size of my trash can limits me to two bushes a weekend) I got stung. By a hornet. On my thumb. I immediately squealed like a girl, fought off big tears, and stormed inside complete with a slammed door. I promptly held out my throbbing thumb to my wife who shrugged her shoulders and said, "Yes, it hurts" and continued doing whatever thing it was that didn't include sympathy to me. My struggles doing manly things.


I'm not perfect, my family is not perfect and all the people who I come in contact with - certainly not perfect. But I wouldn't change any of it. In fact, I revel in it.

More (Banana) Confessions...

1. Even though my neighbor is beautiful and skinny and has a perfectly clean house, I still find some comfort in the fact that she knows what I'm talking about when I tell her that the zit on my face feels like there's a rock growing under my skin.



2. Those diapers are STILL in the dryer...it's now Sunday. It's almost time to wash diapers again!



3. I still cry everytime I hear "I Can Only Imagine" by Mercy Me. Ever since that one day when I heard it, it gets me everytime. Luckily, I only listen to KLOVE when I'm in the car, and usually only when I'm by myself or just have Sadie with me (Brian doesn't like to listen to it), so it's not that embarrassing.



4. We bought another bouncy chair. There will be a whole blog post (with pictures) coming soon. But for now...the bouncy chair broke, we took it as a sign that it was time to "grow up." Then we realized we're not quite ready for that step yet, so we bought another one. We're addicted to convenience...and I'm strangely excited about it.



5. I laugh at Sadie when she gets scared. I know, this is like horrible mother material, but sometimes Sadie has this motion sensitivity to where when we lift her up high, coming down is REALLY scary. Sometimes I do this just to laugh at her. Then she cries and I feel bad, but then she does the cry where the bottom lip sticks out and I laugh again. I know, I'm mean.



So, to make up for it, here's this week's banana picture. I stole Brian's post for the day.

Political Banana

Recently I registered in a contest to have dinner with President Obama. I did not win. Though that registration my email address was given to the democratic congressional campaign committee. Once a day (sometimes twice) I get an email from them always with the same message - donate money. Some of the emails come from Nancy Pelosi, or Bill Clinton or some other high profile democratic politician. They all ask me to donate money and that has caused me quite a bit of annoyance. So I have begun replying to their emails (all individual replies) asking them in return to donate to my wife's cause.

My wife is raising money to help support Phoenix Childrens Hospital. That hospital does amazing things for children which has a direct impact upon our community. Sadie, in our lives, is an example. Below is a transcript of a recent reply I've given to one of their emails. There might be a bit of tension in the email - but considering this is roughly
the 100th email I've written with zero response, or more importantly a donation, the tone has become more and more malicious on my part.

Enjoy.



--- On Sat, 10/9/10, Jon Vogel, DCCC Executive Director wrote:

From: Jon Vogel, DCCC Executive Director
Subject: Arizona Democrats are Counting on You
To: "brian beck"
Date: Saturday, October 9, 2010, 10:53 AM


brian --

I know you are getting tons of emails. The truth is November's election is in a little over three weeks and it all comes down to the actions we take right now to get out our message and turn out Democrats to the polls.

The margins of victory have no room for error for any Democrat to sit on the sidelines. If you care about the progress we have made for America, we must act now. Here are the three best ways you can get involved to help retain our Democratic Majority in November:

• Sign up to Volunteer -- We can put you in touch with a local campaign in your area who needs your help now, on the phones, knocking on doors and passing out literature. We urgently need volunteers on the ground. We know exactly which voters we need to target. We just need folks to make it happen.
• Ask your friends to Volunteer -- Post a link on Facebook, tweet it out, or simply press forward on this email and send to ten friends. Every committed Democrat needs to get involved and we are counting on you. The Republicans are counting on Obama Democrats to stay home -- let's prove them wrong.
• Can't volunteer? Donate! -- Outfitting a grassroots campaign organizer with a kit costs $28 dollars - contribute that today and it could mean that one more campaign has one more volunteer who has the resources it will take for victory on Election Day. $100 could cover production of over a 1000 door hangers. We urgently need your support.

It's all come down to these final three weeks.

We cannot wake up on November 3rd regretting we didn't do more. I need you in this game. Stand with Speaker Pelosi and President Obama and let's prove the Republicans wrong. They have underestimated us before but let's show them this is their biggest miscalculation of all.

Onward to Victory,

Jon Vogel
DCCC Executive Director



Jon,

All you've done is ask me for money. One email, specific to my location just reminded me to vote early. I thought that was tremendous. Of the rest of the emails you and your pals never mention why I should donate money other than to stop to evil empire of Palins - and even then you do nothing to support your need of why. With that nebulous request in tow, I'll simply respond by asking you to donate to my cause:

http://www.firstgiving.com/sadiebeck

Helping sick children. I know that isn't in your agenda because sick Children don't vote, and because they are sick they are less likely to make it to voting age therefore making them even less valuable to you, however considering you really are only furthering the interests of your political machine, I'll just ask politely for you to donate and expect you to do nothing for me except take - and never give.

Brian

Banana confidence

Our most recent trip to Oregon, the hippy-est place on earth, we went to a library story/sing/social time. A group of parents with children all of a certain age would take off their shoes, unpack their children from their various style of harnesses (not strollers save one bad hippy-mommy) and sit in a circle. Shortly little kids were up and introducing themselves to other kids and parents and bystanders. I thought this fascinating as these kids and their joyous wanderings caused parents to interact with one another in a communal setting allowing introductions to be made, and friendships kindled. It was different from the way adults normally act.

Once the starting time commenced, the parents returned their kids to the place in the circle and they sat excitedly. The group, led by a librarian (coolest job ever!) sat and sang silly songs together complete with actions. Singing aloud a nutty children song, to yourself, your child and for the group to hear, all while participating in silly action shenanigans takes a lot confidence.

Christie was so impressed with this that she attended a similar library time in Phoenix. This group, apparently, was lame and uninteresting. They weren't willing to sing aloud, weren't willing to let their kids wander and explore, and weren't willing to interact with others who had a similar circumstance: their aged children.

This Friday I attended a similar event at the Foundation for Blind Children. The parents sang aloud. The parents whooshed and giggled and bounced their kids. The children, in various states, loved it. I don't believe there was a child there who did not enjoy the time together with their parents (and grandparents and some other people of some sort of relation) as they sang, danced and enjoyed the time together.

The art, or perhaps better summarized: the bumbling effort - of raising children is best served with confidence. Might we consider that having a child and being forced to deal with that child in all his or her humanness, fallibility, finiteness and love causes a parent to understand their true role.

Peeling a Banana

One can see that our banana plant has enjoyed the new growth through the hot summer, but along with new growth has come some scorched leaves. This probably lends easily to some metaphor for Sadie, but I figure that's somewhat trite and know that we can do better.

I had a pretty awful experience at work with a customer who went out of her way to make my life miserable and I considered writing how a new child makes parents wish to eradicate all of the evil in the world, and running into an abomination of humanity tests every fiber in my body to take the high road and be a model for my daughter.

Instead, what I want to write about is an outstanding conversation I had with a co-worker upon his dropping me off at the air pot. I had a business trip to Las Vegas from Wednesday to Friday. The weekend following was labor day weekend. I had spent the trip avoiding the sensory overload of Las Vegas and did not put a dime in any casino or partake in any debauchery that the city seems to offer all of its guests. As my co-worker dropped me off at the airport, he said: count the working girls coming off of the plane.

So, while sitting in my gate I strategically picked a seat facing the exit tunnel of a plane and counted the girls who exited the plane alone, endowed in a manner that God did not intend, with a fierce look upon their face.

Seven.

Heretofore I was unaware how important these may be for fathers.

The Second (banana) Sex

I Recently finished a seminal work in second wave feminism. As I flipped through the final pages I thought that the thesis will be imperative for my daughter.

Simone De Beauvoir came after suffrage and before feminist tension found a nadir of absurdity though infighting and nonsensical demands of society. She grew up in France and received the highest academic honors throughout her matriculation. She eventually met up with J.P. Sartre and continued a lifelong friendship where influence rubbed off upon one another.

The thrust of her book is that woman is not born, but is made. A woman physically is born as is, however her place in society is created through domination of the male human species. She traces the broad scope of history to try to understand why woman has become a objective instrument to maleness. She discovers no clear reason other than the fact that woman has succumbed to this forceful demand - creating, accepting and even craving this objectified status in society - and man has accepted this as a status-quo.

Her cure, which in modern times seems rather simple and foregone, is to treat woman as an other (not an it) and allow a woman to redefine herself as a human equal amongst a plethora of individuals. There can be no denial that there are certain physiological differences between males and females, however that difference should be used to enhance one another.

The brief synopsis above is a quick and not-very-useful attempt to bring my thesis into light. My daughter, in all her womany being, has an added element which creates another level of objectivity. She has a disability, severity unknown, that makes her dependent upon others for an indeterminate future.

It is very tempting for us her parents, and anyone involved in her life to quickly label, define and categorize her as an individual who has limits, hindrances, inability to do whatever it is she wants to do. The assumptions we carry with us, whether it be towards women, a race, political affiliations, or even people with disabilities is unfair and takes the humanness away from another.

I think we're in for a lot of learning and new beginnings.

Chat Replay!

In case you missed the earlier chat scheduled Sunday with the father of Sadie, you can read the transcript below. All questions were welcome and all were answered.

Elsa (Fargo): Do you have your picture of Sadie posed next to a Banana? I love those.
Sadie-Pops: Yes! Thanks for asking. See below.



Mike (Austin Tx): Can you tell me about your feelings this past week?
Sadie-Pops: Interesting question from a shrink. Yes however. The EEG long term test in the early part of the week was tolerable. Despite being trapped in a hospital room without the ability to pacify Sadie through normal means, we could look at the potential end result and suffer during the test. We thought she was not having seizures however having medical proof is always a pleasurable outcome. We just had no way to stop her ear bloodying shrieks outside of making silly noises hoping you stumble upon something bizarre enough the she looks at you and coos.
The second eventful portion of our week, an OD due to a pharmacy error really was an interesting happening. When Sadie was born it wasn't any one's fault. It would have been nice to just have a doctor to blame or something, however it was just the results of some unfortunate circumstances. While we love Sadie thoroughly, we don't love her health. She got snake eyes on that one. In the over dose it was an entirely different feeling. There was a culpable individual who made a very bad mistake that really was the result of either shoddy work or simple stupidity. When we figured out what the dose should have been (by reading the prescription) we had an actual individual to rage against. While it felt good to simply flail and kick against an individuals error, in the end it does not benefit Sadie in any way to plot the destruction of the Pharmacy. An interesting time to introspect.

Pam (Traveling): Are you going to sue those bastards?
Sadie-Pops: We haven't decided at all. We do think they should pay for the hospital bills however we are unsure. We did consult with a friend who is a lawyer and he explained that our case is pretty cut and dry in that medical malpractice is a bad thing. That's actually why insurance is carried for medical personal. Malpractice here is pretty easy to prove.

Eric (Merced): How is she doing now?
Sadie-Pops: She's apparently decided that our week, while eventful, wasn't quite full enough. She's decided to pour buckets of drool from her mouth, continually nap for snatches of time only long enough to trick her parents into thinking she might actually be asleep, and cut no teeth. There is a lot of thrashing and moaning and complaining, but there are no results. I'm considering calling the dentist and asking if there is a surgery to help speed up this teething process. We get all the noise and awfulness of teeth - but no actual teeth.

Rachel (Eugene): How are the kitties?
Sadie-Pops: Fine. Wilson is cuddling up to Sadie when she's not flailing in protest over something. Barney will only come close enough that we can pet, but not Sadie. Sadie coos and woos at the kitties when she catches em out of the corner of her eye. She's certainly interested in them even if they aren't in her.

John (Queen Creek): Who wears the pants in your family?
Sadie-Pops: Sadie.

Mika (Roseville): What is Sadie's favorite song or singer?
Sadie-Pops: Not sure actually. She has stopped everything to catch bits of Simon and Garfunkle however she gets a regular earful of Raffi. I know all about Baby Beluga's and their play, but whether or not Sadie likes it...?

Christie (Phoenix): Have you considered trying to breast feed Sadie?
Sadie-Pops: No.

Christie (Phoenix): In some African tribes there is lore about glorious chieftans caring for an orphan child by allowing the baby to suck on his breast. He can even produce minute amounts of milk. The child can have its incredible desire to suck pacified by a simple act of unselfishness.
Sadie-Pops: It is a great thing we live in Phoenix and Sadie has a wonderful caring mother like yourself.

Mark (Santa Ana): What is the best part about being a father?
Sadie-Pops: Some questions are best left to poets and their muses. I am sometimes awaken from my stupor finding myself lost while looking into Sadie's face. Often times the highlight of my day is connecting eyes with her and having her break into a large grin. Knowing her in any way, one knows that she just doesn't smile unless there is specific stimulus given in order to exert a smile. Having her just smile at me, for being me, is pretty special.

I think the parental bond between child and parent is a metaphysical bond that is only accurately describable, understandable, knowable by someone who is a parent and loves their child as much as I love Sadie. I am not poet, and my muse is never to be seen, but I do know my feelings for Sadie - and right now this chat needs to finish as someone needs a kiss.

Banana Sits!

Sadie has been practicing her sitting and she is getting close. We figure within a month she'll be sitting up on her own, looking around, plotting her next move.

We make her practice on a constant basis (that is: any time we remember and are on the floor with her and she is not too terrible). She is getting better and better. Earlier today we were outside on the patio and she was sitting on my lap - as I had pinned her legs between mine creating an anchor. She had to use her "sit muscles" nevertheless and the fact she was successful was cause for minor celebration.

This is a somewhat interesting phenomena in the arc of parenthood. We are elated to see developmental milestones yet saddened too. Our little baby is growing up into our little toddler. She's a little slower, many other younger children surpass her in developing, but our solace is that we have the opportunity to enjoy each stage of life a little longer than other parents.

Currently my favorite part of our daily routine, that I am enjoying, is story time. She really likes "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" by Eric Carle. She especially likes the pictures. The hardest part for me, as most parents perhaps are aware, is continually finding new ways to read the book to my daughter. I can change my cadence and enunciation enough to find out the most effective way to create powerful storytelling.

Also, I can master this quiz now. See how many you can do!

This is bananas

My daughter is not a good teethe-r. She does well during the day, followed by a mediumish okay evening, all culminated with a drool, scream, not-gonna-sleep-cause-it-hurts bed time routine. We have tried Tylenol, Advil, amber necklaces with "soothing healing oils", teething tablets, and ora-jell -- all together. Nothing works well enough to allow the over tired child to sleep.

We've got a few tricks, one is new. We put her in the middle of a blanket. I grab two corners, and my wife grabs the other two corners. We pick up the blanket with the unhappy baby in the center, and swing her back and forth. Immediate silence and delighted leg kicks. This is a wondrous new discovery but as it turns out, this requires two people and long sustained swinging is not possible as arms quickly fatigue.

The other sure way to soothe the screamy child is to take a trip to the mail box. Our mail box is roughly 150 yards away past lots of houses. As soon as I grab the keys, the ornery babe and open the door, like an obedient puppy she's silent. You see, there is a very special treat that she loves so much that she'll quit all fuss in order to enjoy. Trees.

There are 8 accessible trees from our front door to the mailbox. She knows exactly where they are and which she likes best. She will immediately sit back in my arms in a reclined position and stare up at the first tree in front of our house. She'll coo happily and tell me that she's enjoying the tree - completely forgotten about the mouth pain.

When we move away from one tree she objects until we arrive at the next, where happiness returns. This will continue until we get to the mail box, where no accessible trees grow. It isn't simple at this juncture: baby, plus operation of the key, extracting the mail, re-locking the box, securing the key and figuring out how to hold the mail while balancing the baby. She hasn't been dropped yet. What is bad? There are no trees near the mail box, causing dismay in my daughter.

Upon departure from the mailbox, we return to her favorite tree. I believe it is a Chinese Elm that has a large canopy, enough for father and daughter to stand under. As the wind rustles the branches and leaves, she'll look up at wonder immediately settling down from her time spent at the mailbox without a tree for pacification. As we make our way back to the house counting down the trees, she protests each time we leave. By the time we return to the house, she is usually in a better mood.

My daughter - the arborist.

Ouch! Teeth! And a banana picture.

This week we have learned a lot about our daughter. Much of it learned at our fragile nerves expense. She cries longer, harder, louder than we imagined a 15 pound ball of fury ever could. Her record at this moment is 12 hours however we judge that she could have gone on infinitely longer. She only stopped at t w e l v e l o n g h o u r s due to our drugging her into a peaceful rest period. I believe she could cry for a good 24 hours ensuring that we, as mother and father, feel every bit of her pain.

We've been enjoying late nights as a family huddled around one or two stubborn teeth that refuse to move any faster then their current slow, deliberate painful pace. We think that these particular teeth must be deformed carrying terrible tiny sharp points all over causing extra awfulness. I'm not sure it is possible for one normal tooth to cause such agony. As I tongue my own teeth I wonder if my parents suffered as I suffer so.

My wife is an amazing woman. She's gotten less sleep than I have as she's a human feeding/pacifying/holding-the-baby-while-she-naps-for-fear-that-setting-baby-down-will-cause-premature-wakefulness machine. When we snap at one another at 3 in the morning, wondering how such a small human continues to wail at such deep dark hours of the morning, it always strikes me that there is no other woman I'd rather snap at. Even though I complain that she should have tried the left boob instead of the right and the left boob was the holy sleep grail and she should already be asleep due to my obvious suggestion. In reality nothing pacifies our little munchkin except fatigue or acts of God who we are thinking is not merciful - at least this past week.

My wife is bound boob to mouth to our child and I'm grateful that she's able to do so. Her boredom is mighty as she is tied to the couch with our child alternating between feeding struggles, bouncy chair manipulations, naps, cry fests and the slow transition between the various Sadie accepted stages. I love her very much and never tell her enough how much I'm delighted that she's my wife who bore my ever-tension filled babe.

I love you Christie.

--

Our picture this week is telling. It has been over 110 for the past week with nary a cloud in the sky. The banana has scorched a bit and the bucket watering hasn't been sufficient due to the heat. Many of the sun-loving leaves have scorched creating a sun damaged plant. I, in the 110 degree heat, decided that this was unacceptable and finally ran a slow drip system line from our water valve to the banana. I can now water slowly for long periods of time in order to help water absorption allowing the plant to recover better from the unrelenting heat. This required trench digging, measuring, adapting, burying and testing. A trial indeed to me to help save and nurture out damaged banana plant. Obviously this lends nicely to a metaphor with our daughter.

Grandpa came over and played with an amazingly delightful Sadie this afternoon to give us a bit of a break in order to accomplish basic chores around the house.

Thanks Gramps!

Unexpected Growth

Last year around this time we made a discovery. Our baby watermelon vines burned up in the scorching heat. This was especially tragic as watermelons are my wife's favorite form of nutrition. When planning our garden this year we decided against any sort of melon crop because our loss still stung too much.

We planted other successful items including this year including an apricot tree in our back and a Hong Kong Orchid for eventual shade in the front. When planting this I dug a hole. The put the trees into the hole. The backfill for the hole was a nice 50/50 mix of native soil and our compost. We compost everything that was once living but never had legs or fins.

Often times when using compost unusual things sprout up quickly and I am curious enough to not kill these items. We've so far gotten green onions and...


at least 15 more of these butternut squash. And...


three honeydew melons. Not pictured is one spaghetti squash we salvaged before its vine perished in the hot hot sun. All of the items, except the spaghetti squash (which grew from our main garden which is odd considering I put no compost there) came from the soil of our two planted trees. Roughly 10 butternut squash in the front of our house and 10 in the back. There is a slowly dying vine in our front yard below our tree that has provided us so much homegrown food. I am positive our HOA is not thrilled. I am also positive that I am thrilled and that trumps stodgy HOA prudes any day.

We're now in the process of finding new and interesting ways to use up all this butternut squash. One huge advantage of having so much bn squash is the life of the squash. It can be kept for a month or so which spaces out our consumption.

Tomorrow, a recipe...

Dreaming of the day I eat a Banana

Sadie-pops' story not related to the above and below pictures: the last dog I owned, or really had any relation to other than petting someone else dog and feigning interest in the pup, was Noah. He was my parents dog who was a flood rescue dog. Get it? Noah? He was a golden retriever and smarter than just about any dog I've ever met.

When I was bored and at home I learned how to teach him tricks. Give the command. Have him do what I wanted with my assistance. Repeat each time giving a lot of encouragement for good behavior and lessening the assistance from me with each command. Noah inevitably would get it within 30 minutes. I taught him "shake" and "drop/give". Really the "drop/give" command was my own inconsistency in remembering what command it was that was taught and him just being plain smart enough to figure out what I wanted him to do - drop/give the ball so I could toss it with him bounding after - indefatigably.

Staring at Sadie this past week an idea came into my head. I wonder if Sadie can learn tricks like dogs? Give a command, show her behavior, lots of encouragement and then hope she figures it out. I decided on every kids favorite trick: gimme five.

Well, it went okay at first. When Sadie is in a good mood she sort of runs on her back with legs kicking and arms pumping. The plan went into action, she was in full happiness with legs and arms flailing in ecstasy. I started by staying "gimme five" and having her arm run into my hand. Then "YAAAAY!!!" which elicited a small grin and a coo. This went on until I was sure she got it. Triumphantly I left feeling like she achieved quite an accomplishment. A new trick!

Later in the day I tried it again. "Gimme five!" and held out my hand in the exact position it was previously. Limp, she just stared up at me. I said, "Gimme five" again and forced her hand into mine. This followed and gleeful "yay" from me. Sadie whinnied and tensed. Foolishly I tried again. Sadie went into full protest and wailed prompting me to pick her up and swing her around in effort to quell the maddening cry.

After some reflection, I came to the conclusion that my daughter is not nearly so eager to please as my previous dog. This parenting thing might be more challenging than I was led to believe.

banana-sadie-rama

It certainly seems as though I only post about things that grow. Believe it or not I have lots of interests. Some of which include: cell phone map coverage, pool maintenance, and skin moisturizing lotion. Well actually those things happen to consume various sectors of my life and therefore they require more to be known about them.

Before Sadie was born we had a grand idea to plant her placenta under a tree. The tree would then become a symbol of her growth and maturity. As it turns out the group b strep ruined that whole endeavor for us. We had to turn in the placenta, which the midwife randomly saved in our fridge, to the lab for testing and we never got it back. Hindsight, it might have been nice to have a bit of it back, nevertheless we lost it.

We never really got an answer as to why people bury placentas under trees, but we suspect it has something to do with wild animals not being able to get to the tasty flesh if it was under a tree. Really we like our version better of it being a symbol of the child's growth.

We thought long and hard about what kind of tree to plant. By happenstance I stopped into an "exotic fruit" nursery in a slummy part of town. The gentleman, staring saucer eyed with mouth firmly agape thinly suggested we take a look at a banana tree. He happened to get out of me what we were looking for and why...no actually I told him our grandiose plan. He did mention that bananas grow well here in the desert so long as they receive proper care. He also mentioned that it takes severe neglect or acts of God to kill them.

Upon arrival to our house it was proudly proclaimed that we have found our tree specimen. Christie, in feined-excitement, "yeah?" I triumphed by exclaiming, "BANANA TREE!" In true excitement she follow up, "ooh." and then questions about their growth ensued.

We went to the nursery in our excitement and purchased the tree*. 20 bucks for a 5 gallon plant - and we happened to buy a Goji berry plant which is still alive and incredibly our best producing product. We bought these items at month 6 of pregnancy which was the beginning of winter. The Banana tree sat and I did nothing to it. The stalk that was on it withered away due to cold and I sent frantic emails to the nursery which were met with cool, "give it a chance once it warms up. And no refunds." The nursery man didn't understand what this tree symbolized in our brains! The banana received no water, no food, just sat in a 5 gallon black bucket. I was convinced it was dead.

Sadie was born. Rigamorale happened and she came home. She did okay and slowly got better. Miraculously, just as the nursery man proclaimed, once the weather heated up the banana started to sprout in the bucket. To our eager surprise we quickly dug a hole and stuck it into the ground. As Sadie has thrived, so has our banana tree. As it turns out bananas have rhizomes which are kind of like blobs underground. The blobs are the life of the plant and the stalk and *fingers crossed* fruit are the plants effort to reproduce. It was simply asleep for the cold winter months when we thought it to be dead.

We never had to worry about the wild animals, but we did find the growth of the banana tree, seemingly out of death, to be parallel to Sadie. We plan on continuing the mirrored growth by chronicling her growth with the Banana. This is our inaugural picture of Sadie and her Tree.





*For those who care (mainly me) we purchased an ice cream banana which produces the bananas that are often frozen and eaten as ice cream - only instead of ice cream it is really a frozen banana! The stalks get up to 12 feet tall which is a concern in that our winds blow west to east and it is unprotected from the west. During our monsoon storms winds can blow over a stalk ruining any chance of bananas for that stalk. The tree will be trussed shortly once it gets large enough.