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The other day I couldn’t help myself from humming a Lionel Richie tune while I took my morning shower. Little Cambell slept all through the night. For the first time ever, I woke before he did.

The initial reaction of the wife and I was the same as any first time parents faced with a good night’s rest: fear. What happened? Did you get up with him? Is he ok? I’ll go check on him. Shew.

Our next reaction was all smiles and celebration. We would have danced the jig if it didn’t require us to get out of bed. Let’s hope this is the start of something special. Of course, the following day (yesterday, if you are following along), the one-time pattern didn’t hold. Still, we are both quite hopeful for the future.

For those who are wondering, Cambell is doing just fine. As my little object of facination, he has become more interactive every day. Coos and giggles are now the norm. He grasps at this and that, often latching himself to my clothing and refusing to let go. You can hold his gaze for a long while. Peek-a-boo is prime entertainment. Baby Eistein proves an interesting distraction.

He’s also developing a personality. Like all infants, he’ll let you know when he’s frustrated. He’ll let the world know when he’s mad. When he’s content, his facial expressions are littered with clues. When he’s happy, one of his signature smiles lights up the room. I’ve never seen a child who could smile so much with their eyes.

His mom on the other hand, is preparing for a bit of a tough time: she’s going back to work next week. The balance between work and baby is something we debated for a while. We recognized the need for income. We, and especially she (as the prime money maker in the household, my role was never in doubt), expressed the desire to participate in our child’s life during the daytime hours. You make sacrifices. In this case, at least, I think we did a good job putting our money (or lack thereof) where are mouth is. She’ll be going back part-time after a three month hiatus. I have to say that I feel incredibly lucky that we have the financial means to pull it off. Cambell will get to see his mother much more than the average bear.

It also signals a bit of a transition for me. After three months of letting the wife take on the majority of the nighttime feeding chores, I will be asked to take a larger role. Part of me will lament the sleep I’ll lose. Another part of me doesn’t think an extra hour in the middle of the night sounds like a bad addition to the little time after work that I see him each day (I’ll be sure to read that sentence to myself at 4:00 am one evening).

I think it will be good for the wife to get out a little more and converse with the natives on a more regular basis. I also think it will be great that mommy and baby can take more than occasional trips to the park or zoo in the middle of the afternoon. I know the wife is dreading her return to the workforce. It may help to tell her that I’ll know how she feels as she’s frets at her desk. I miss him too.

There’s something about a beautiful spring day combined with the release of a new Zelda game that makes my heart swell. The sense of giddy excitement I had as I approached the counter at the local GameStop is something that I haven’t experienced in a while.

It harkens me back to my high school days, where a good friend and I would run off to EB with freshly saved cash stashed in our pockets. Minutes later we would be back in the car. One person had to man the wheel and pedals. The other would tear open the packaging, eager to digest any indication that our purchases were good or bad.

In this case, the verdict has been out for a while. You might not agree with its art direction. You might not appreciate the devotion the Link name carries but you cannot deny that every Zelda release has been a damn fine game. This one is no exception.

I’m happy that my wife shared a bit of my excitement. We brought the child down to the living room and Cambell and I watched mommy play through the first hour of the game. After the wife and I returned from church, we returned to the GameCube for a little more. This time my bit chomping was reduced. We swapped the controller back and forth.

Whether or not this one will hook me is already decided. I didn’t need to see my sister carted off by a bird to figure that out. The big question is whether or not I’ll have to fight my wife for seat time. I’m guessing I might – she beat A Link to the Past twice.

A war unfolds thousands of miles away. I sit in my living room and watch the images flash across the television screen. At home I’m captivated by it. At work, I’m distracted by it.

Bagdad lights up in their very own, and very real, fireworks show. Bush stops by to tell us of the difficulties ahead. A representative of MSNBC rides along with our troops into Southern Iraq. Someone from Fox News chats along with us while gunfire echoes in the background. I can’t help but feel that something is lost in the translation. Unprecedented access can bring us close to battle but not to the feelings of war.

Reports of enemy casualties don’t faze me. Reports of our own dead send a chill down my spine. The sight of Iraqi police literally beating the bushes for a downed pilot that didn’t exist made the hair on my neck stand on end. Shots are fired into the water for an imaginary POW. Real POWs are paraded in front of the camera.

A ticker scrolls along the bottom of the screen. As the fighting intensifies, so do the reports from the field. The big news of the night speaks of a suspected chemical weapons plant – 100 acres of it. We need no reminder why we’re here.

I’m proud to be part of a country that stands up to the despots of the world. I’m proud of our soldiers and the work they do. The television gives me a cloudy lens in which to spy on their frightening world. I pray for our soldiers. I pray for our enemy. I pray for the day when I’m happy to turn the TV off.

The attention getting tactics of the several street filling protests yesterday has me irritated. Protesters ran out into the street and blocked traffic, clogging the roadways for miles. Some degree of civil disobedience is acceptable. Ruining an otherwise pleasant commute is not.

I know my disagreement with their opinion fuels my disgust. I’m happy to see Americans exercise their right to free speech. I’m happy to know that dissenting voices exist to keep us all level headed and open eyed. I’m unhappy that, in this anxious time, policemen are diverted from their primary tasks to deal with folks who have trouble understanding the peace part of a peace protest.

I take solice in the fact that they’ve failed miserably in their attempt to sway public opinion. I’m not surprised. An agenda of anger and frustration doesn’t tend to bring people into the fold. The fact that many protests cross the line from an agenda of anti-war to anti-US leaves more than a token flavor of distrust in the air.

I’m happy to see some pro-war demonstrations counter the recent rush. Funny enough, I’ve yet to hear that one of them got out of hand. No policemen with batons required. No vandalism at the local McDonald’s (can’t we leave the Hamburgler out of this?) to speak of. The irony of this is not lost on me.

I can’t imagine sitting in traffic in one of those victimized cars, waiting to return home to my wife and child. I’m nervous and anxious, listening to war on the radio while signs and chants cross in front of me. Sir or madam, I don’t care about your message. Just get the hell out of my way.

I’ve avoided talking about the war with Iraq. Part of the reason is surely personal. Most of my regular readers, many of which reside on the other side of the political fence, likely disagree with my thoughts. Still, I’m not usually one to shy away from debate. The second, and more major, part of the reason is laziness. I haven’t had the time or inclination to grasp the many thoughts in my head and use the force necessary to translate them into something resembling coherent sentences. But I can’t simply ignore one of the more significant events of my time, especially when I consider this blog somewhat of a diary (sheww, don’t tell anyone – it makes me sound girly). So, here goes. I’ll try to make it quick.

I’m for a war on Iraq because the last one is not yet over.

I want to get the preemptive strike talk out of the way first. If Iraq were just some random country toiling on nasty weapons in seclusion (and let’s face it, who isn’t), the argument for war would hold much less weight. We can’t attack another country simply because we believe they may be a threat to us in the future. The bully can’t take lunch money from the nerd just because he heard that he was saving for a gun. It wouldn’t be right. Premonition as an instrument of war is a dangerous toy.

But that isn’t an accurate description of Iraq (except for the toiling part). Iraq fought a war in1991 and lost badly. Yes, they lost. They lost despite the fact that tanks didn’t roll into Bagdad. They lost despite the fact they won’t admit it; maybe, just maybe, that is the problem. They pulled pens from their pockets and signed a couple of “agreements”. They agreed to follow the U.N.’s resolutions. We agreed to stop kicking their ass. Those agreements have since been ignored.

That’s brings up point two of the anti-war crowd: there is no proof that Saddam possesses the weapons for which we accuse him. Some believe that he has done what he says. I have a two major problems with that line of thinking: it assumes trust in Saddam Hussein and it assumes a distrust in the United States government. Saddam is the poster child of a madmen, rapidly climbing the ranks of the big boys. If Hitler were around, Saddam would surely have a picture with him on the palace wall. Trusting in him is folly. His own mother may love him but I’d be surprised if that wasn’t one parent who slept with one eye open and a gas mask in the nightstand.

If President Bush tells me Saddam has chemical and biological weapons, I believe him. If he tells me that Saddam is actively attempting to create weapons of mass destruction, I believe him. If for no other reason, the math works out: madman + recent history + no supervision + twelve years of defiance = bad news. All logic points that way. Bush isn’t some guy on a street corner and he isn’t the madman some believe him to be. In this case, he is the messenger. This isn’t the stance of George W. Bush. This isn’t the stance of his daddy. This is the official stance of the United States.

(On the other hand, if he tells me that grass is blue, we might have a little debate. Let’s leave that sexual relation talk at the door. We aren’t talking about Monica this time.)

Colin Powell’s take on this when speaking to the U.N. was eye opening. Look people, I shouldn’t have to tell you this. If your intelligence resources are anything more than incompetent, you should already know.

For me, no direct proof is necessary. I don’t need to know every detail. I’m delegating. There is a reason why they call it intelligence.

So let’s say Iraq has weapons that it shouldn’t. If this isn’t true, why did the U.N. send weapons inspectors to Iraq to begin with? Surely, there isn’t anything to find. We could just head over to the weapons factories (you know, the buildings with the “Weapons Here” signs on the roof) and make sure there isn’t anything more lethal than a pop gun being manufactured. What will more time allow the inspectors to do? If they are actively searching for something, what is it? Why wasn’t twelve years enough?

These weapons exist and we know it. The world knows it, even if you can’t scare France away their white flags long enough to admit it. Saddam, you said you’d rid your country of inhumane weapons. You lied. We can’t leave our children to clean up any mess that you or your offspring would certainly make. We must finish what we started. Call it Desert Storm, part duex.

There are rumors that Iraq is prepared to use chemical and biological weapons against our troops in retaliation – a scary proposition indeed. I can’t help but think the obvious: I thought they did not possess the ability to do so.

The last week was full of activity for my little boy. It would have certainly made his head spin, if he was a little better at holding it up in the first place.

On Monday, we visited the doctor’s office. It was vaccination time. The four needles to follow were a trial to both baby and parents alike. Each plastic tube bared its prickly head. My brave little boy responded to each with a bit of grumbling, a ten second burst of crying, and a very quick recovery. I was a little stunned. Two hearts swelled with pride as one little head allowed the red of his temple to fade back to white. We called a couple of folks on the way home just to report the facts. Add grandparents to the list of the proud.

On Thursday, good weather nudged my wife and son to my workplace. Time for a little show and tell. He woke immediately as I pulled him from his car seat. Eyes were wide and searching. Our tour of the third and fifth floors of my building were pleasant. The occasional coo and smile greeted passersby.
Our visit to the fourth floor was more eventful. He began to get fussy and quickly let us know he was done with all these new faces. Two floors are filled with people who think our child is an absolute angel. The other floor is probably wishing us luck with our little hellion. All in all, though, everything really went very well.

The ensuing lunch also went well. Again, the wife and I scarfed down Mexican cuisine as a quiet baby looked on. One surprise was that Don Pablos had a special stand designed to hold baby carriers. As a new parent, you quickly determine which restaurants are really family oriented. I’m happy to add one to the list that serves really good fajitas.

He wasn’t done. Saturday’s events included a baby shower. Two good friends of ours made the trip from New Jersey for a couples shower. We couldn’t be happier for them; we’re always happy to include more of our friends in our quickly growing parenting throng. Their pending little girl will not suffer from a lack of love. It was the first shower that I’ve attended. Luckily, the couples format meant we could show off the babe to some friends we no longer see enough of. It’s also the first shower that I can confindently state served beer. Maybe the women have something here.

This whirlwind of activity lets me breathe heavy sighs of relief. Not only do we design events around our little boy, we include him in ours. He was brave at the doctors, happy to see a bunch of new faces, and good when we really wanted him to be. Things won’t always be this easy but it never hurts to get off on the right foot, even if that foot has more needles waiting for it in just two more months.

Hotmail has my panties in a bunch. On one hand, it hosts the only stable email address I’ve had over the best several years. On the other, I just can’t stand it anymore.

Let me explain.

In the past I’ve been able to look past some of its problems; the fact that it’s free certainly helps. The storage limit is low at an attachment clenching 2 MB. Export options, which basically involve using Outlook or Outlook Express to download your mail, are at best clumsy. And, when you get down to it, I can’t forget that it is owned by Microsoft. You can almost feel the dark side calling.

Still, my Hotmail account has served me well. I can get to my email from home, work, or, in the past, school. Ads can be easily ignored. Any games of ISP roulette that I play remain invisible to my friends because my email isn’t tied to any particular service provider.

It’s their junk mail system that really bothers me. Junk mail options fall into three categories: let it all in, try to stop some of it, or only let in things from a known source. I ruled out the last option because the limits it places on who can send me mail are too constricting. I’ve played with options one and two and I can’t tell the difference. I still get a lot of junk mail even if Microsoft claims that they are trying to help.

So I switched to plan two: the blacklist. Hotmail will let you block incoming mail by both by individual address or domain. However, all is still not well. Blocking a specific address is a waste of time. This may counter the occasional piece of relayed mail from a bogus yahoo or hotmail account but, in general, the spammers are way too smart to let one address get in their way. Is 1@youwannabuy.com blocked? Let’s try 2@youwannabuy.com. Blocking an entire domain is definitely the way to go.

That too isn’t without its faults, the biggest of which is that there’s a limit to the number of domains you can block. I’ve now reached that limit and that is my problem. Leaks have sprung in the flood gates. It is only a matter of time before spam comes crashing through.

Microsoft would be happy to offer a solution to my problem for a mere $19.95 a year. This is unacceptable. I know. I know. This is the new age of the internet. Nothing is free. That may be true, but I won’t buy into a service because it is growing worse. I just can’t do it. The fact that their solution stinks doesn’t help.

By now, I would think that Microsoft would have its act together. How about maintaining a master list of sites to block? A good list is surely easy to find. Besides a couple of legal issues, why not allow users to block bad offenders from a public list automagically?

What about offering algorithmic tools? My recently purchased domain offers such a feature. The included Spam Assasin tool is a gift from the heavens. It will even tell you why something was rejected and include the original mail as an attachment, stopping the offending mail from communicating back to its master.
Here, check out this cool sample. You know you want to.

Sadly, none of these options are available. A little more storage and the removal the block cap is all they offer. Big deal.

If you haven’t guessed by now (and you should have since I gave it away), I’m changing my email address. No longer will I suffer under Microsoft’s tyranny. I will clear my own path, incidentally under my own domain. If you have my hotmail address, please stop using it. My new email address is my name at thewoottons.com. The wife has a similar address. (Note that the addresses above are carefully edited to stop bots from coming by and sending me more spam. Put it all together yourself. If you can’t, give me a ring, I’ll spell it out for you.)

I’ve already begun the transfer process. Those web sites that I actually request mail from have been notified. Now, so have you. My hotmail account now sports about one piece of desired mail for every ten pieces of junk. I’ll be happy to leave it behind and I soon will.

Last Friday, I was a wimp. A little snow fell from the sky and, for the first time this year, I took a snow day off. It certainly wasn’t the blizzard of last week. There were no drifts of white to shovel but there I was, sitting at home wondering if I really should have went to work.

By noon, the had snow stopped falling and the roads outside my home were miraculously clear. The temperature had warmed up and there were no winds to speak of. Instead of hopping in the car and slogging through the commute to work, I decided to relieve my wife’s cabin fever.

We did so by running out to lunch at the local Mexican restaurant. I say “the” because we’ve been so happy with their service and food, there really doesn’t need to be another one in our area. Plaza Girabaldi suits us just fine.

The caveat of this trip is that we brought our two month old child along. Our fingers were crossed that he would behave and they were not crossed in vain. Perched upon the table, he slept comfortably within the safe confines of his baby carrier. For two parents that have spent the majority of two months inside their home, the freedom of a relaxed meal without the need for a sitter was richly rewarding. See? We can have our fried ice cream and eat it too.

Then, largely by my prompting, we ran off to Best Buy to purchase some CDs (namely Nut Sack by Rodney Carrington and Cocky by Kid Rock – trust us, we knew what we were doing). I don’t think I’ve had a more enjoyable visit to that wonderful store of technological glitz and glamour. The aisles were clear. We were free to browse this way and that without rubbing elbows with disgruntled customers or anxious kids. My wife tagged along as I showed her all the things that I absolutely had to have. Subtle smiles indicated that some things would eventually follow us home. Others would always remain on the shelf, just out of reach (like that plasma TV). My baby boy took his first trip to Best Buy well by taking another nap. I hope he likes it in here. He’ll undoubtably be back.

A trip to BabiesRUs was thrown in because of a couple of recent needs. Nipples were in short supply and our old baby monitor had its best days behind it. The wife and I were tired of banging the monitor on the wall to get it to work or finding the best spots in the house to make it screech with static. It was time for a replacement. Our trip to BabiesRUs very much mimicked our trip to Best Buy, only this time I trailed the wife rather than the other way around. We did just a little bit of shopping and a lot of browsing. Future needs and potential presents for some soon-to-be parents dotted the shelves.

The rest of the day just slid on by at a very easy pace. Neither of us were really hungry after a big lunch so dinner was small and pain-free to prepare. The baby duties were split up for the rest of the day, allowing my wife an extra bit of rest at the end of a work week. It was the kind of day we both needed to recharge our batteries. I’m not so sure I should have shirked my duties at work to stay at home with the wife but, to be honest, I was really glad I did.

Millenium cable drew the last straw. I’m so sick and tired of them that I’m severing the ties of our relationship, despite the fact that I’ll miss some of the perks they provide. Although my problems lie mostly with their customer service, not their cable service, I’m honestly dissapointed with both.

Millenium’s cable service has its ups and downs. They certainly offered me a nice package. Digital cable, with all the movie trimmings, and a cable modem were provided for a very reasonable price. The picture was clear and matching digital decoders decorated both the bedroom and living room. I was in cable heaven. The problem was that, even with all those choices, cable TV was and is not my focus. I’m a certified geek. I don’t need my MTV. I need my yahoo.

That’s primarily where they failed me. Over the last several months, their cable modem service has been intermittent. Sometimes it would go down without warning. At others, my connection, and particularly my connection to onlineracin.com, was crap. Latency was out of control. Pings over 200 make me frown. Pings over 600 make an invisible vein pop out on my forehead.

Some of my pain could have been overlooked if their customer service line (and I say line because I’m convinced they only have one) wasn’t completely and utterly useless. I’ve spent hours – yes, hours – on the phone trying to find someone – anyone – to listen to my complaints. An hour of busy signals normally preceeded a daunting thirty minute wait to speak to a human being. The commercials you hear during this time are almost comforting compared to the constant buzzing you heard to get to that point.

I can say nothing worse about their service than I know their phone number by heart. I don’t even know my own brother’s phone number off the top of my head. Don’t call us, I suppose, and we’ll never call you.

My dissatifaction reached its peak during the latest snowstorm. I had spent the last month calling about internet connection problems of one sort or another. Things were finally working when a snow plow came by and knocked over our cable box and, along with it, all Millenium related services. It took us two days to get through to a service representative. Two days later a technician, who didn’t even bother to visit my doorstep, came out and fixed almost nothing. We had a little cable here and there but no cable modem and no digital cable. Two more days of calling yielded a service representative with an attitude. Two days later we called Comcast. Comcast came over the very next day.

Our deal with Comcast means we lose our precious movie channels and our second decoder box. I’ll take a working cable modem as my replacement. At this point, I would have done just about anything to never have to call Millenium again.

Our ex-cable company finally called back to check up on us on Wednesday. I take great joy in the fact that my wife reported to them that Comcast was installing cable while they spoke. Please cancel us. Thank you very much.

Saturday morning, the wife and I spent a good while entertaining our wide awake child. It was a blast, made all the more fun by the fact that participation in these playtime sessions is becoming less and less one sided. What was once a steady trickle of progression, has now become a flood.

It seemed like yesterday when our little boy had no control of that heavy thing above his neck. Now I sway him left and right, amazed that his little noggin stays upright and steady. Attentive eyes track my movement. A craned neck makes its appearance when I stray from sight.

He’s also begun to verbally express himself. It’s yet to approach speech. That’s quite ok with me. The pleasant sounds of cooing are much better than the tearless alternative. They could form their own nature soundtrack – an album that only a parent could truly love.

The biggest present I received this week came in the form of a smile. An occasional smile had passed his lips before but this one was different. This one came in direct response to my goofiness. It was repeatable. On Sunday, a great one greeted me at the side of his crib after a short nap. It warms the heart. It feeds the soul. One smile can strike the sleepless nights from memory. One smile makes it all worth it – so totally worth it.

His metamorphisis into a child has begun and, I must say, it is happening much too quickly for my tastes. He changes in a day. The change seen from the eyes of his weekly or monthly visitors must be staggering. I have no doubt that I’m watching him grow up to be something special. He already is.