Feeling MUCH better

Sorry for the long delay between posts. I wasn't feeling top notch for a few days, but I'm feeling back to normal now. My parents were really concerned, because, according to them, I was listless and un-smiley, which are very much unlike me. But now I'm feeling very Spencer-like - lots of smiling (and so many reasons to do so!), sleeping well again, and generally in a much better mood!

One new development that somewhat concerns me is the new sounds I'm making. I seem to be making lots of squeaks, grunts and other onomatopoeias (how about that vocab for a 4-month old!), and they're happening more often each day. I'm a bit concerned that there is perhaps a small marmoset in my stomach making these sounds. My parents think they're adorable. But what a surprise they'll have when one day a marmoset jumps out of my mouth!

Here's a quick picture of me trying to down one of those rattles so I know when the marmoset is moving.



Ok, a bit of a lame post today, but I'm just back in action!

Love,
Spencer

4 months old but not feeling so well

I just hit another life milestone! No, I'm not talking about my first traffic ticket - I turned 4 months old on Friday! And as a wonderful birthday present, Buddha made me sick.

That's right, I feel awful. I have a 102 temperature and feel like my stuffed Thomas the Train ran right over me. My parents got so worried they even took me to the clinic, where they did the following:
- Weighed me, and then had a double take while adjusting KGs to LBs and realizing I weighed 16lb, 15oz. I'm like a Thanksgiving Turkey, but thankfully without the giblets.
- Looked in my ears and nose, presumably making sure I hadn't stuffed any loose change in there hoping that a soda would come out of my mouth
- Checked all of my fingers and toes to make sure I didn't have what's called a hair tourniquet. This is when your mom's long hair gets twisted around an extremity and cuts of the blood flow. It's also what saved one of the characters in Casualties of War, but in that case he never actually removed the hair from the vietnamese prostitute before using it.
- Inspected my poop. These are the things they don't tell you when med schools come for campus recruiting.

In the end, the just opined that I just needed rest and fluids, and didn't have anything more exotic, like a reaction to one of my vaccinations, or a parasitic jungle disease (but they didn't ask me if I'd been to a jungle lately).

So that's what my parents are giving me - lots of fluids, some fitful sleep, and a showering of attention. And to keep my fever down, they're putting a cool towel on my head like this!





I'm convinced that so much of keeping good health is your diet. I've been on a steady diet of breast milk, which clearly is giving me all the calories I need. But I've started to acquire a taste for meat:






One more thing - let's all give a huge wahoowah for the UVA tennis and lacrosse teams, both of whom made it to the NCAA semifinals this coming week! Go hoos, from your best mini-fan!

Love, Spencer

My first plane ride!

I had a whirlwind trip this past weekend. My parents took me on my first plane flight to a place I've been begging them to take me since birth. You guessed it - Ohio. Ohio? Ohio. Ohio?

Here we are boarding one of the many soon-to-be-bankrupt airlines out of San Francisco, just for proof that we went there for all of you disbelieving, jealous types:


You'll note that the flight board says we were going to Cleveland. That wasn't our ultimate destination - we were headed for a little town known as Hiram, Ohio (population: irrelevant).

The occasion? My mom's younger sister Sam graduated from college! I'm so proud of Sam, but I have to admit she should be a bit embarrassed that after only 2 days on campus, they offered me an honorary degree. The cap didn't fit, but the gown looked marvelous.


We also had a rocking family picture taken - apparently we haven't had a picture of my mom and dad and me since my bris, which is an event I'd prefer to forget anyway. So I'm excited that this picture finally wipes the previous one out. Here it is. I am so damn cute. And so happy!


Being in Ohio was a major culture shock. I can't imagine another place more different from my home in San Francisco. For starters, I didn't see a single Prius during my entire trip. Not one Prius. In SF, you can't spit Peet's Coffee without hitting a Prius. But in Ohio they prefer Ford F-150s ... and then they soup them up to get even worse gas mileage. And where were all the other foreign-made cars? Are the Japanese and Germans boycotting Ohio? Maybe they think that Ohio was responsible for the allies winning WWII.

Another thing - why was everyone so nice? What did they want from me? Did they want me to vote Republican? Join their church? I'm now convinced that every Ohioan is a salesperson...who is, of course, bitter and clings to guns and religion. Sorry Barack, it had to be said.

I'd also like to give a shout out to my mom for mother's day. I love my mom. She's great, but could use a little help with nursery rhymes. Here's her version of a classic that she sang to me on the plane today - and I am NOT making this up:
Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder where you are
Up above the sky and clouds
Like a .... [quizzical look from my dad stops her]

Same day - I'm still not making this up - she sings me the ABC song (which I just realized is to the same tune as Twinkle Twinkle Little Star) and goes straight from "QRS TUV" to "Now I know my ABCs," leaving out some pretty important letters. God help me when I start school.

But even though she's verse-challenged and quite tone deaf (fodder for another blog later on, no doubt - just wait for the .wav file), she's the best mom I could ever ask for. Happy Mother's Day mom!


Love,
Spencer

a bit of political discourse...and pictures

It keeps going and going and going and going.

This Tuesday is yet another installment of the Democratic primaries. I have to tell you that I'm tired of these primaries. The 2008 Democratic primaries have been going on literally my entire life.

If you're reading this in either Indiana or North Carolina I have a message to deliver to you in between all of the nasty political ads and news segments about nasty political ads you're seeing on TV (no doubt you miss the Bud Light ads and movie previews). As president of the San Francisco chapter of BBB (see my March 18 posting...) I'd like to urge you to vote for Obama. And I know that all you Hoosiers and Tar Heels look to San Francisco for your political guidance, right?

The reason I REALLY hope that Obama wins in both states is because I think then and only then will Hillary stop hoping that the National Enquirer breaks a story that Suri Cruise is actually Obama's love child and just end her campaign. Finally we'll be able to turn our attention to John McCain and the series finale of Scrubs this Thursday night. 5 bucks JD and Eliot still don't get together.

Which brings me to my main topic for today. Did you know that when John McCain graduated from the Naval Academy sometime before the invention of color televison, his class rank was 894 out of 899. 6th from the bottom. Bottom 1%.

Let's put this into context. If I had been in McCain's graduating class, it's not entirely unreasonable that I could have been ranked ahead of him, what with my ability to do almost one pushup and my preternatural understanding of seasonal ocean currents. Note to new readers: I'm 3 1/2 months old.

It scares me to to think that the reward for this kind of extreme underachievement is the presidency [insert Bush joke here]. I want my president to be someone who is smarter than me [insert Bush joke here]; a person who can make reasoned judgments based on an understanding of what other smart people advise them to do [insert...ok enough of that]. Now that doesn't mean that the president has to have been the valedictorian of New Rochelle High School (go Fighting Huguenots!), but I'd say top 80% of class should be expected. Think about who the bottom 1% of your graduating class of ANYTHING was and imagine him/her as president. Good luck sleeping tonight with dreams of Jeff Klein in the oval office (now let's see if Jeff actually reads this...).

Here's another frame of reference. You know the old joke, "What do you call the person who graduates last in his medical class? Doctor." Now imagine you find out your baby's pediatrician graduated 894 out of 899 in his Naval Academy medical class. Auf wiedersehn Dr. Lipschutz.

OK, off of my soapbox for today. There are many other reasons that he scares me, but I'll give him credit that his wife is an uber-rich babealot. I'd like her to change my diaper, if you know what I mean. I actually don't know what I mean. What does that mean?

Here are a few recent pictures of me hanging out in my chair. In the first one I kind of look ready to hold court, no?




And here's a recent one of me and my mom at our friend's place up in wine country. That's a rocking infinity pool overlooking the countryside and vineyards!




Love,
Spencer