We left gifts at our neighbor's door for several days, each day corresponding to one of the Twelve Days of Christmas. Several days into it, Delores paid the family a visit. She knocked on the door. Our neigbor opened the door and looked at the ground before realizing that Delores was standing there. I suppose they were expecting a doorbell ditcher...
Whodda thunk?
Shhh! Don't tell anyone I'm hiding out here with my camoflage sweatpants or they might find me...
A while back, I mentioned Kevin's eagle project. Today was the grand ceremony. Keven and two other young men were welcomed to the Eagle's Nest in honor this evening.
The program was very neat. A gentleman brought a live bald eagle, named Liberty, and spoke with us about her and about eagle-ish things worthy of looking up to. He explained to us that Liberty was in captivity because of an injury on a power line years ago. Although in captivity, Liberty's pride was in no respect diminished. She commanded our attention by flapping her enormous wings, sending a powerful wave of air across the entire gym.
Eagles mate for life. When they migrate north to Canada, they always find their way to the exact same nest, and are fiercely loyal to their tiny family. Some aviators have sighted eagles as high as 20,000 feet, and they will at times break into a dive at speeds of over 100mph. They are far-sighted birds, and can recognize a rabbit from two miles away. I felt like this symbolized our desire to look where we are going and see with clarity the things that guide our decisions in life.
During the flag ceremony, I held Abigail in my left arm while my right hand was over my heart. I tried to snag Abigail's right hand with my fingers and press it to her heart. Her left hand was firmly ensconced in her mouth. After the ceremony was finished and we removed our hands, Abigail's right hand quickly went to her side. But her left? Oh no. That was to remain in her cheery, drooling mouth for some time yet.
The Veterans of Foreign Wars presented flags and certificates of honor to the boys. I was touched when these seven men who had served our country, and continue to give service to the community, gave what they felt was their highest honor to the boys. The Vice Commander shouted Present Arms. Each of the seven honorable old men saluted the boys. Order Arms. There was an odd sense of quietness in the air and a peaceful expression on the faces of the boys.
My father, who had visited Scotland with my mother earlier in the year, brought back patches commemorating the 100th anniversary of the Boy Scouts in Scotland. The patches contained stylized reproductions of scetches made by Baden Powell of the very first Boy Scouts doing their activities. He gave one to Kevin and to each of the rest of us.
That is our last eagle, at least until my nephews come of age. Counting my father there are seven of us now, and a mother who has been a surrogate eagle five times. I've never regretted my eagle, and I am proud of Keven for earning his.
My favorite parts of the Christmas season are the family gatherings. Each year my grandmother hosts a Christmas celebration at a church house near her home. We get together, hear a few words from my grandma, watch the great-grandkids and a few of the rest of us share a song or a talent, and stage a nativity pageant.
The tradition is similar for the Dorton clan. We were excited to include Abigail in the nativity scene. We had borrowed a cow outfit from my sister, Marian, for halloween. We were just able to squeeze Abigail into it and she was so inocently cute that my daddy-heart melted.
Abigail's cousin, Samuel, was also a cow. As a matter of fact, there were no sheep. If we are to accept the Dorton account of the Savior's birth, the shepherds were in fact cowboys; or, more correctly, a single cowgirl, driving their herd of cattle to the inn to see the holy Child.
I had once fallen out of love with the Christmas holiday. I can't exactly say why. But watching my little child dressed as a cow, lying on her tummy, and grazing on a burp cloth, stirred something in me that I was missing. Her eyes will gaze at our tree in wonder. She sings carols with us with innocent abandon. She snuggles close and wants to be held, and for some reason, it feels more like Christmas than I have ever known.
Come with me and share in my joy. We experienced a neat blessing over the weekend.
I carry a number of things in my pocket: nail clippers, pens, keys, etc. Sometimes It seems my pockets are simply a walking purse. We were to travel south to see family, so I pulled my keys from my pocket only to spill the entire contents of my pocket on the wet blacktop. I chuckled at my clumsiness and south we went.
Abigail is teething, and with teething comes an incredible amount of drool and, yes, baby OraGel. A neighbor gave us a sample that we have been very grateful for. It has helped our sweet child through several nights. After applying some OraGel, Delores handed the tube to me and it promptly went into my pocket with everything else.
I returned home without Delores and Abigail on account of the heavy snow storm that hit the area. When I returned home that night, I had a conversation with Delores on the phone. Abigail was having another troublesome night. Delores looked for the OraGel. There it was, sitting alone on the driver's seat of the car. She picked it up and Abigail slept soundly.
She told me this and I checked my pockets. Everything else was there. Keys, nail clippers; all of it. I guess it was a really neat blessing that Of all the things to have fall from my pocket, it was the one thing that would be wanted most when I was so far away.
There's an expression that goes: "The fact that light travels faster than sound explains why some folks look bright before they speak." I suppose that's partly because it is so difficult to listen while speaking.
Abigail was somewhat irritable over the course of the last week. Teething was suspect, so we checked her bottom gums for teeth (because "they", the anonymous baby gurus, say bottom teeth come first. No teeth, nor any signs of teeth. Naturally, we start wondering about ear infections. Abigail did have a cold the previous week.
At length, we get in to the doctor. After Abigail made it through a swarm of adoring nurses, one nurse feels her mouth for a second. She has a tooth! It's on the top row. Curse "they" and us for listening... That wasn't all. There was, in fact, an incipient infection in her ear.
Now, with a much happier baby, I spend some time musing. Teeth arriving symbolizes another stride toward a speaking Abigail. On the other hand, the ear infection seems to suggest to the hopelessly imaginative soul that with speaking comes the challenge to listen.
It's an exciting step, teeth. At least one reason is my lighthearted sense of competition with the neighbor boy. Young Mr. Kimball is two weeks older than Abigail and sports two lower teeth. The arrival of a top tooth filled me with glib satisfaction. "They" say that top teeth come later. That means, for some reason I couldn't possibly justify or explain, that Abigail is gaining an edge! I suppose that is just a mask for my excitement for my sweet little girl.
The Dorton clan celebrated Thanksgiving with more-than-usual cheer yesterday. We received news that Daniel and Wendy's baby has arrived and they are off even as we speak to pick him up. We are very excited to welcome William Jackson Dorton to the family. We'll certainly need to arrange for William and Abigail to be best friends!
Happy Thanksgiving.
A while back, I mentioned that my dreamed-up software company caught the attention of credit card companies and banks across the United States. It has been getting better, and funnier, since then. I suppose one might consider placing my dream company's title in our DNS record to be a subtle and superb marketing strategy...
Our latest client: Smith's Food & Drug Stores. We received in the mail today a letter asking Having trouble deciding what to give your employees or clients this holiday season? We have the perfect answer. The answer? A Smith's Gift Certificate or Gift Card; it's the ideal gift.
Now, I cannot argue with the simple truth that a Gift Card is an ideal gift. A gift card from one of my old college jobs came as a real life-saver one Christmas. However, considering that the name K-B-Rimington Productions was made public only by my DNS record, I am thoroughly stunned to receive this kind of solicitation by none other than Smith's.
Sigh.
I suppose it will never end. At any rate, it's a jolly joke!
It has been a long-standing habit of mine to sing made-up songs at random throughout the day. My lyrics gradually improved from "I love Delores...I love Delores...I love Delores" to more sophisticated compositions such as "I really, really, really, really, really love Delores".
I was holding Abigail, singing about how happy we were to be a family when she started singing along! She was cooing and puckering her lips as she sang with adorable discord. I felt so happy I could burst. She is a delightful young woman, ready to play stick-out-your-tongue games at a moment's notice. What could a new dad want more?
I feel very lucky to be a dad. At any rate, I'm off to go sing in our little family choir.
We were surprised a week or so ago to receive a credit card offer from Capital One. A credit card offer, you say? This was not just any credit card offer. It was addressed to K B Rimington Productions, Attn: Keith Rimington.
I wondered: How did they know I dream of having a software business called K-B-Rimington Productions? The offer read, Congratulations on your new company. As near as I could tell, the phrase only existed meaningfully in the intro movie of the Battleship game I wrote for a college assignment.
I was doing some account management on our DNS when it came to me. When we set up kbrimington.net, I was particularly daydreamy. I registered the account under K-B-Rimington Productions and listed myself as the contact. That must be how Capital One found me.
Sneaky fellas, aren't they?
In June, we planted our own flowerpot garden. We enjoyed watching all the little plants grow. I also came to realize that chives are a kind of onion. That meant that the pot that was half onions and half chives...yeah, it was all chives.
At length, we harvested our crop. We had enough onion to garnish one salad, and enough basil for one pot of something basil-ly. We were richly rewarded for our vigilance. My shoulders still ache from the effort.
We spent the weekend with the Dorton clan to view the General Conference of our church. After dinner on Sunday, I was playing with the nieces and nephews. The game: Let's pretend Keith is a monster and sneak past him. I lumbered around like an overgrown ape, each niece and nephew skirting by just out of reach.
In the best monster voice I could muster I cried out, "I eat little Dortons!"
Then Erick, like a prince among his subjects, strides past me declaring, "I'm not a little Dorton. I'm a Romero. You can't eat me!"
He showed me.
We were visiting my parent's home today while they shared marvelous photographs of their trip to Scotland. One short video was of a group of dancers. Upon seeing the video, Justin remarked:
"That's just like Lord of the Rings... Lord of the Flies... no... Lord of the Dance!"
She's my little girl. It feels so peculiar to have her here; peculiar, exhiliarating, liberating, and downright fun!
For those interested in vital statistics, she entered the world Wednesday the 22th, weighing 8lbs. 9.3oz. and measuring 20 inches long. Her eyes tilt up at the ends like Delores. I'm proud to say my looks were mercifully recessive. She makes faces, yawns large enough to swallow a rhinocerous, and loves to cuddle.
And tomorrow is her first week anniversary of living in the sunlight.
We should celebrate
My brother, Kevin just finished his eagle project; a neat one at that! Not far from my parents' home is a neighborhood park. Years ago, perhaps as the result of another eagle project, a classy wooden sign was posted to identify the park and its rules. That sign since became worn, faded, and dilapdated. The sign was weather-beaten and the posts were torn and scuffed by lawnmowers and weed-whackers. The rules had faded beyond recognition.
That is where Kevin's project comes in. He orchestrated the replacement of the sign, which looks wonderful again! He designed the new sign and coordinated its construction and installation.
She's almost here! She's almost here!
Having recovered somewhat from the fantastic Harry Potter haze, I realize how much is left undone to prepare for our baby. What is left to pack, to practice, to buy, to fix, and to clean? Oy!
It's kindof fun to look at the half-assembled nursery. Along one wall is the dresser, our baby's clothes sorted in each drawer by age. Against the window is the crib my father built. All seven of us slept in that crib and, as a matter of fact, so have Abigail's eight cousins. It is a family treasure to enjoy again for a short time. Against the wall by the door is our crib. It was a gift from our neighbor, but came missing parts. Saturday evening, I finished making the last of the missing brackets, and it now stands their in our baby's new room, polished and waiting.
I feel poised, and ready, and yet entirely unprepared. I never thought how much my parents loved me before I knew what love and hugs and sunshine really meant, yet I suspect now perhaps some of the deep feelings I know my mother and father had felt years ago. It brings a little perspective, I guess.
She's almost here...
While pregnancy gradually ruled out strenuous physical activity for Delores, we found ourselves immersed in 3000 pages of J. K. Rowling's fantastic Harry Potter series. I hadn't intended to read any of them at all; but after perusing a handful of rich pages, I couldn't help myself anymore.
I followed Harry during his many late-night excursions; sometimes long after the sun went down on the muggle world I hold so dear. I couldn't put the books down.
At long last, the final, thrilling, scene drew to a close and I struggled to catch my breath as though I had finished a race. Neville won my respect, Malfoy my pity, and I was duly surprised by wonderful twists and turns. Monday night was the first full night's-worth of rest I have had since I first entered Hogwarts with Harry.
I chuckled to myself. I recognized a feeling of denial. Is it really over? It felt like the same denial I felt when I finished my degree. A month of immersive pleasure-reading felt like a lifetime, and it feels somewhat peculiar to peer out at my unmagical world and resume muggle life again.
sigh
At least, I say to myself, my baby girl may want to hear daddy read to her. I can't wait to see those eyes of wonder.
Yesterday marked the conclusion of a neat family reunion on my mother's side of the family. This year, the reunion was held at a lovely campground currently owned by our church. There were cabins, each holding a handful of people in one room, and many more in the adjacent room.
One cabin was set aside for all the teenaged cousins. They're a rather large, tight-knit group, with a few boys and an quite a few more girls. They bedded the boys in the inner room, and the girls stayed in the outer room with my grandmother and my mother's oldest sister, Linda.
On a whiteboard on the wall, someone claimed the territory by marking the words:
The Teen - & - Aged Cabin.
The beginnings of a deep sleep were beginning to swirl around in my head when I heard a squeal from Delores down the hall. I don't know how, but in an instant I was at her side anxiously rasping "What, what? Are you OK?"
And then I saw him: a cockroach about the size of a small mouse. We had left a door open in the house for about an hour, cooling the apartment down, and this scurrying little critter must have darted in during that time.
Delores urged me to kill him, and I looked about frantically for something sturdy and flat that would do the trick, being barefoot and uninterested in grimy cockroach guts all over my feet. Not wanting to startle the critter and drive him off before I got a good shot in, I grabbed the first sturdy squarish object in sight: a tall box of fireworks.
Without a thought, I brought the edge of the box of fireworks squarely on the back of our visitor. He darted away with the speed of a mouse! Now I was startled and I brought the box of fireworks down again. Crack! The critter paused only a moment, and then darted for the safety of the tangle of computer cords near our desk.
"Oh, no you don't!"
Finally recognizing the danger of trying to exterminate cockroaches with a box of unspent fireworks, I grabbed the next best thing I could reach: the power strip next to the computer. Thwak! No good. He was gone behind the hutch now.
Ohhh! That was it! I found the can of RAID and I hunted that cockroach down within an inch of his life. There wasn't a corner of the house untouched. I silently and wearily dared the critter to bare its cockroachish little face.
In the morning, he was there on the floor, not two feet from where he was originally sighted, lying on his back twitching weakly. With smug victory on my face, I walked him to the toilet where he could wash off. It was back to the sewer for our Brigham City sewer cockroach, and a day of glorious victory for the Keith.
I told Delores, and I called him Fluffy, which Delores observed probably stemmed from Harry Potter; Fluffy was Rubeus Hagrid's three-headed hellhound. I guess if it had been a big dog, the box of fireworks might have come in more handy, eh?
 | The Waterfalls of Layton Not far from Highway 89 is a quiet trail with some wonderful scenery. I went there with a handful of Delores's family last weekend. It is hard to believe that there is one of nature's jewels only a few paces from the road! |
 | Basking in the Sun Ben and Isabel, sitting on a rock and enjoying water and treats. |
 | Duaine on the Switchbacks It was fun to catch a photo of Duane...catching a photo! |
 | Hills around the Corner Around one of the corners of the trail was this scene. |
 | Hills around the Corner ... and this one. |
 | Grandpa with a Camera Delores's dad continues his avid collection of family memories. |
 | Resting by the Wayside They might be young, but our little troupe received praise from some passers-by for making it all the way to the falls. |
 | Running Water The dusty switchbacks quickly give way to green trees and running water. Soon, all that can be seen is lush and beautiful. |
 | Ants These little critters were working busily away on an enormous log that has been across the path for several years. |
 | The First Falls One of the neat things about this trail is all the eye candy. Here, the river splits around a rock formation and splashes through. |
 | Arrived at the Falls At length, we arrived at the falls. We had to stone-hop across a piece of the river to arrive on a dusty shore. There, we enjoyed the spray of the falls, lunch, and some time to sit and enjoy the scenery. It was a wonderful hike! |
 | The Don's at the Falls The Don Dorton clan celebrated the refreshing victory. |
 | Tiny People We were so small compared to the falls. |
 | Like a Pitcher The top of the falls looked like the lip of a pitcher, worn down from so many years of rushing water. |
 | Mountain Lagoon This picture, taken from a ledge on the nearby mountain wall, shows the collecting basing where the rushing water pools before continuing down the mountain. |
 | Glance Back to Smile Everyone seemed to have a good time. Jocelyn could tell you about all the small wildlife we encountered on the trail. |
 | The First Falls One of the neat things about this trail is all the eye candy. Here, the river splits around a rock formation and splashes through. |
Delores and I planted a vast garden this week. Our anticipated crop will include every imaginable vegetable, provided one's imagination is limited to a handfil of small plants soaking up the sun in our aparment window. In one long pot are onions and chives. Another boasts basil and something else -- I can't exactly remember. With only a handful of plants, one might think I could keep them all straight, but I already look at the moist dirt in the pots with anticipation for the surprise. What did we plant, and where?
It feels refreshing, really. I haven't had a garden, even a flowerpot garden, since I lived with my parents. We kept a small handful of fruit trees, clumps of zucchini and pumpkin, rows of corn, and even carrots which, due to the native Utah clay, often turned out to appear like short, fat, orange toes. Having a little something to watch grow is so very different than the day-in and day-out routine of writing software.
Delores makes it fun as well. She filled pots with dirt and drew furrows in the soil with her fingertips. Handfuls of dirt were saved for Fergusen, the family plant. She is always full of sunshine and laughter.
When I woke the next morning, my neck and shoulders ached like I had planted acres of rocks. It took me some time, and the help of Delores, to figure that it was likely because I bought our dirt while walking home from my carpool. I had walked home from the store with two large bags of soil, one over each shoulder. A half of a block later it was two large bags under my arms. Shortly later it was one bag across my back somewhat with the other clung to my chest like a cherished teddy bear.
The little adventure ended and our garden is planted. I wonder how large the plants will be when Abigail is here? I guess we'll see.
Today, most of both families came to spend some time in fun and games at our new apartment. To my surprise, everyone seemed to fit in the space we had available. That was stunning!
After enjoying some light summer food, many of us retired to the lawn for games of checkers, darts, and water balloon volleyball. It seemed to me that everyone had a great time.
It was really neat to me that so many people were willing to come. Family came from Provo, West Jordan, Salt Lake, and Brigham City. This was the first time we had combined so many from both families since our wedding almost two years ago. This is something we very definitely want to do again.
Sometimes it takes several grueling hours with a pickaxe and a jack hammer to make a fella feel like a man. Other times, there are more sensitive things. I enjoy going with Delores each week to our Bradley Method® birthing class. We sit in a room for a few hours with other couples who are as excited about there baby as we are about ours, and we learn how to prepare for and embrace labor.
Strange enough, this helps me feel like a man. We alternate between different activities in the class, from traditional school-like learning to practicing relaxation techniques and massage. I get to spend the entire time practicing and dreaming about providing for Delores' every need during labor and birth. Each moment is about taking care of her as only a husband with all his love can. I get to be her labor coach; the fella who is there every moment and is sorely missed even for the briefest of trips to the restroom. Yup. I'm going to do all that and somehow not faint. And I can't wait (although I need to wait until we at least have a place for our baby to sleep).
There's no table saw, forklift, or anything else manly about it except my love for Delores and my deep hope that I can be a decent father to my baby. And yet, to me, I feel that I am facing a rite of passage; one that, if I succeed, I will be a man. Two calendar flips. That's all the time left. And with the next calendar flip only two-some-odd weeks ahead, I can hardly contain myself.
I finally finished enough of my development weblog to deploy! This has been a monumental effort for me. Although there is yet more to do, I am just thrilled to have some tools available to give back to the web development community.
Come see my new site, at www.notesoncode.com. It's a modest site, but its my work and I'm pleased with it.
I think I'll write some short articles on tips and tricks to get the most out of some of the tools I use at work... and then I'll write about... oh, I'm excited. Thanks for being excited with me.
This came from my dad today:
I was just bragging about the new Grandkid picture I have and it dawned on me that your daughter will be the seventh granddaughter with nine grand children total. Does that make her “Seven of Nine”?
We just enjoyed an unusually neat experience. Delores and I went for a walk (that's not the unusual part) through our new neighborhood. A few blocks from home we met the family of our mailman. In only a few minutes we were friends. What was unusual about the whole experience was how welcome and friendly everything seemed to be from the very first moment. They brought chairs out for Delores and the other lady-folk, and we chatted idly for some time.
I think I experienced a little of the kind of hospitality I want to always share with others. Walking away, I felt like I was walking away from the house of old friends. We even have a tentative dinner date coming up. Walking home hand-in-hand with Delores, chatting and laughing together in blithe merriment, I thought to myself how wonderful it is to be in a community I can call home.
I attended the blessing of my youngest niece, Natalie, today. When I stood in the circle to join in the blessing, I felt like I could burst from excitement. We are nine weeks away from Abigail's due date. Supposing I blink my eyes for only a moment, will I be standing in a circle to bless my own child? Many emotions flooded me then, and I am grateful that God is giving us one of his dear children. Seeing Natalie was like a small taste of fathers' joy.
Details of blessings are often too sacred to be written like this for people to view. Suffice it to say that there was peace, joy, and gratitude among all who attended. Natalie smiled with the smiles only infants can have, and even so, only at rare and perfect times. I feel overjoyed that I could participate in one of those times.
I have so many things to look forward to.
I lie awake in bed, tranquil and still, and listen to your gentle breathing. Abigail is due in two calendar-flips, and seems like she might arrive both running and dancing. You are supernally beautiful.
My love, I love you more deeply and more sweetly than the day we married. You have been strength to me, and tenderness, and joy. Thank you, love.
Today the fife and drum participated in memorial services at Fort Douglas. We marched to the cemetery near the fort to the music of a Civil War funeral duty, followed by a riderless horse and the flag-draped casket. Pictured below is the ceremonial flag-draped casket and rifled upturned to pay honor and tribute to the fallen dead.
The keynote speaker for the ceremony was Amanda Dixon from KSL radio. She spake of patriotism and mentioned some details of her father's service. From Amanda: "I'm not a great American; I'm a grateful American". May we all be more grateful for our country.
We finally made it! No one broke their backs, either.
We quite like our place. We can no longer walk through the entire apartment in a straight line, which is a testimony to the comparative spaciousness we now enjoy. The neatest thing of all is the bedroom adjacent to our bedroom. We call it "The baby's room." That phrase is so exhilarating to me.
Thanks for all who could come and help. My dad and several brothers (those without broken backs), Delores's dad and brother, and some friends came. We couldn't have done it without them.
We had guests over to our home today from our church. I was cleaning dishes in the kitchen when a memory came to me. Years ago, perhaps before I was ten years old, guests were expected at our home in West Jordan. Mom was busily encouraging each of us to help make the house clean and presentable.
Naturally, cleaning was not nearly the priority to me as it was to my mother. "Isn't cleaning dishonest, mom?" I asked. "This isn't how we always are..." With seven children, the house was rarely immaculate, but that is not to suggest it was ever terribly dirty.
I don't exactly remember mom's response, but I do remember that I didn't get out of any chores. I chuckle, now. There I was, rapidly cleaning dishes with the hope that no one would know that we often have half a sink full, and I thought to myself for a moment... "Is this honest...?"
One of the neat things about being married to Delores is that I have a lot to brag about in her. She won some prestigious awards from the university, and was recognized among other wonderful people for her service as a teacher and researcher.
Mother and Pa and Mom and Dad all came to see her, and It was fun to be together as a family. It was fun to have them over to visit, eat, laugh, and smile together. I am glad families are eternal.
Delores with her folks.
Delores and me and my folks.
My wife, while studying diligently for her Sociology class on Population Health, helped me find food today like so:
Keith: Oh look? some left over chinese food in the fridge! I'll have some of that.
Delores: If you want, there's some socioeconomic sauce on the top shelf.
