sometimeinthemorning

Waaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Imagine never knowing how much you could love that sound. That is where I find myself these days. Braden has become a talker of infantile dialects. Lots of squeeks, gufaws, yelps of glee and pure, adorable baby screams. Yelps is probably the best word for it. I just came home from a great day at work and I am thinking about the title of this entry for a couple of reasons. Cannot wait to see The Police (FINALLY) in a few weeks. I am also thinking about Braden's sunrise smile when I feed him. And finally, I am overly invested in the new highlites of Lizzie's consulting company ( which she self started) and now has her traveling from China to Miami in less than two weeks. I guess the news is out that she is back. Some people never miss a step in life. And in business, Lizzie is always one step ahead. I am proud and slighty in awe of how quick her services are being snapped up. I guess if I had one "message in a bottle" I would float it out to my Granny. And let her know how GREAT everything turned out. How right she was that I would meet the love of my life. That as her "little brown eyes"--I would make it and would always have her watching over me. My brother was much closer to my Gramps--whom I adored and admired from afar. But my Granny was and still is my hero. And actually best friend. I trust that does not sound weird given she has been passed for over 10 years at this point. But there is not a day that goes by that I do not think of her. In fact when I was getting my headaches, I would think of her and the beach. Just would think of her soul. The light. And I would start to feel better. I do the same thing on airplanes. I think of her. When she passed, I remember not being able to give the eulogy at the funeral. I wrote the whole thing--about 5 pages.....but I had my brother read it for me. And he did a great job. Oddly enough I never regretted not giving the eulogy. It was at a time when I was not "loving" public speaking. In fact , I was hating it. So I did what was best. Instead of worrying about the "speaking" part, I poured my energy and nerves, passion and deepest thoughts into that speech. I remember many of my Mom's friends asking for a copy later. I knew it was good. But that was special stuff. The idea that my words would have an effect--wherein, someone would want to curl up in a chair later and re-discover my granny through them. So I guess, 5 months in with a new baby....3 years in a with my best friend Lizzie who also doubles as my wife.....I think about messages. And bottles. (diapers too!). But tonight--which is NOT sometimeinthemoring....I think about my Granny--and how when she passed, we each took on a piece of her. And that mosaic still makes our extended family tick. I guess what I am most proud of is that I delivered the final message in a bottle to her. And, I wasn't even the one who gave it. There is a lesson in that. Sometimes its better to write the script than worry about your line delivery. So......Back to Braden. My newest little hero--the greatest yelper of all time. And I believe my Granny's "message in a bottle" to me from the house upstairs. :)

I wanted to write one more entry because I can....and I feel so wonderful. Most recent thought is that Life is Long. And we should be more careful of what that means. Love. It takes no time to fall into it. But it takes years to understand what it means. Life is wonderful. Thinking of Braden upstairs, with his little legs curled up and his silly socks that always come undone. Why do I care? And why do I write it down. I think it is because I never want to leave these moments just for myself. It is genuine and perfect. I have recently developed a knack for major headaches. Horrible headaches that feel like a vice grip is being applied to my vein on the right temple of my head. I think I cause them but they may be just a physiological thing. Anyway, when they happen, I cannot function. I degenerate. My cure is diet Coke and 2 Exedrin Migraine pills. My brother gets the same headaches, though we don't spend much time talking about them. I write about it because it reminds me of the 1-2 punch of Life. Perfect one minute and then the next crippled. But when the headache subsides, I feel so lucky and fortunate that I smell things differently and see the world in High Def. Does it take some dose of 'miserable' to see the glory? Maybe. But, sometimeinthemorning, I think the ooh lah lahs are like a pair of untied sneakers. So free. So good. Just don't trip. Oh--and so important......listening to Jason Mraz. I think he is a GENIUS. His music makes my heart heavy with happy. What a great voice and the stylistics are cool too. A little overdone. Kinda like this entry. But I am just learning my voice. And, no one told you that this was part of your summer reading. It is...like me.....just here. One more thought. Lulo? Or as Dad calls her....Lulu. I wonder how she is doing in London. Love that my friends go the "distance' to see the world....while I just ponder Google.Maps Lizzie does Shanghai--I order in General Tsaos. And so it is. Being the first one up is like waiting to open the gifts on Christmas morning. Can't wait for B and L to make their way into the morning. I really am starting to enjoy my life. It is, afterall, just mine. Final thought....re: gossip and media and those who covet. You are all backwards. Curiosity is not the killer. It is the cat. Take a moment--and catch your second wind. Again!!!! Learn to love yourself--and that sports car you just bought with the money that could have put Braden through a 1/2 year of Kindergarten at Georgetown Day. Oh...and lest I forget. The "growth" thought of the day Reality TV is babysitting you. ALB

Okay, I have to admit it. It is pretty cool to see your words appear on the small screen. Funny, as I email all day long--and see my various words fly around--but to not have the harness of the @ sign is genius. Maybe I should start feeding Braden during the week? More time for journal entries. Although more diapers. And in the end, I think one day a week will be fine. So, today is Saturday. I woke up with Braden. Of course, my bbeautiful wife woke up too. Why is that? The whole reason we have "Andy" Saturdays is so that she can sleep in. But I guess somethings just need the proper attention--and when it comes to feeding--Lizzie runs the operations, one step away from a foreman in Dutch Harbour during King Crab season. After a brief kiss, she crumples back to bed. Braden is learning to hug--so he grabs me around my neck. I can't think of anything that I like more. Laughing with my wife? Haagen Daz, Coffee Ice Cream, bought at the actual store without the freezer burn? A call from my brother Peter, where he is laughing and thinks he is funny? Luis smile on a summer day at Dockers......Steve's laugh? Ginny's attention to my stories? Jett's first hug during a visit? Normie's 3;00am emails. Does it get better folks????? Best part of that inventory is that it all holds true to yours truly, even under duress or lack of refrigeration. So, today I take Braden to Pizzeria Uno, while Lizzie and her sister Becky get made over by the most recently forgiven stylist. I am not one for the whole makeover thing. I say work with you got. But, all you men (or women with women)--NEVER not notice when your "lady" gets her whole thang dun up. My gawd. Its almost like the reason for the styling is to polygraph your ability to "NOTICE". I will talk a lot about noticing in this journal. After all, it is sometimeinthemorning. Final thought....don't put beer in a water bottle and carry it around a neighborhood picnic. It looks like you are drinking piss. Note to self. Either buy a thermos. Or carry the can and own it. Finally, this entry is dedicated to the good folks at Blackstone who stand to make 32 Billion dollars in the next 36 hours....and have no idea what it means to sleep in late, eat a tuna melt at La Ronde or give their Dad a kiss. And to think the lead singer of a punk band from Ireland is supposed to be our saviour? When will Wall Street stand up and put forth something other than an analyst report or a pair of Gucci shoes (with lifts--all power brokers are fighting short complexes--present company excluded--I wear flats). Does the world need to rest on Bono's shoulders? He must get tired? And re: Blackstone. I mention it because 1) I want to get credit for reading the WSJ before the Murdoch takeover and 2) I think it is eggregious to pay out people who have never waited for a cab in the rain without an umbrella.....just my 2 cents. Which is worth more than any IPO--according to my shrink. Trust me, the money will never make the meaning. ALB

So here we go....sometime in the morning. That name just came to me--but is such a perfect descriptor for what this journal (I will not go near the whole 'blog' thing) is intended to capture. I realized that technology, or my lack of 'skillz' on the Mac, was keeping me from writing. Unlike many, I have the content--I just did not have the understanding of how to work all these silly sites that promise ease of use--and yet sidle somewhere between the time clock on the VHS and my Amtrak points number--both of which need some dusting off. Okay, so here is the premise. I am a VERY happily married man, with a new son. And on Saturdays I get up on the early shift to feed Braden. And I never can quite go back to sleep. So I thought, maybe it would be a good time to just write down my thoughts, prose, stolen material and whatever words were dripping through my head. This is really just for me. If you somehow happen upon it, here are some rules: 1) I don't want to write the next great amercian novel. I left that back with the intro of Holden. How do you describe the smell of the ocean on the first day of summer? And if you can, why would you try and re-create it. Holden will remain. 2) I don't use spell check when writing 'sometimeinthemorning'. Period. Literally. 3) All references to my friends and family are true. Please feel free to get litigious. Most of my lawyer friends are the most selfless people you will ever meet. They all went the way of 'the people'.....I would be more apt to sick an interior designer on you. 4) I am, despite known fact, 2 years older than my brother Peter--but was raised as the younger brother, due to IQ testing that was highly prevelant in our township. Okay--so there are the misgivings. Lets go!