sssshhhh...

it's joel's birthday on friday.

let's just say i got him a present that his brother would be proud of.

one slight problem. it's been ordered, but won't arrive for a few days after his birthday.

i will keep you posted about his level of SURPRISE!

Feelings, nothing more than feelings...

trying to forget my... oh wait a minute, i'm a few decades late.

But back to true feelings. My nephew Kyler has really blossomed in the past month, using complete sentences and has gotten over, what my sister fondly calls "the mommies" -- that awful phase where he panics and looks for his mother or dad. Kyler's "mommies" and "daddies" manifested in the mantras "my mommy, my mommy" or "my daddy, my daddy" any time I hugged him, raised my voice, etc. Come to think of it, just about anything and anyone could set of a case of the "mommies" sending Kyler into fits of tears and confusion.

Well little Kyler has grown up, and there were some endearing moments I witnessed. I'm amazed how complex and deep the feelings of a 2 1/2 year old are. For example, I was breastfeeding Ila and Kyler looked at me sadly and said, "My mommy has milk, too." I assured him that she did, knowing full well that Jeanne's milk has dried up, as Kyler was weaned last month. Jeanne told him "boobies are sick." It was just so touching, the amount of love he feels for his mommy.

Another time Jeanne and I were looking at some photos of our grandparents on her bed and Kyler noodling about on the periphery of the bed. Kyler inexplicably started saying "my daddy, my daddy" and I instinctively said, "Its hard when daddy's at work all day. Why don't you go give mommy a hug?" He snuggled up in Jeanne's arms and got a big love hug. The next words our of his mouth? "I feel a little bit sad." Wow, I know grown adults who can't even guess their own feelings, much less name them. Apparently Kyler has been learning about emotions at his daycare. As I think back to that incident, I think how easy it is to dismiss children's refrains as irritating, or how easy it would be to say "your daddy will be home soon" and brush them off. But the beauty of his simple statement has me convinced its worth listing with heart and feeling to what kids are trying to say.

For more on the Ila Newsfront, check out these headlines

Ila Eats Diced Apples!

Beloved Baby Finds her Mouth (while Eating Breakfast O's)

Pincer Grasp A Go-Go (or How Baby found her Mouth)

Baby tells Mommy: Forget about Ham, I want milk!

Ila Crawls!

Just days before her 8 month birthday, Ila crawls! Naked as a jaybird, gripping carpet with her feet and hands, in the warmth of a well insulated house, urged on by Auntie Jeanne and Grammy, Ila crawls to a plastic phone!

A strange turn of events

I've been having fantasies of killing someone. Not just anyone. A very specific person. I know her name. I know her address. I know her age. I know her ham radio call sign.

Now, there is truly a reason that I would want to kill someone, do not think I have lost my mind. Her death is the only way out of my current quandry, which has caused me much distress.

It all started last Thursday night when, knee-deep in learning the last of my morse code numbers, the phone rang. (If you're wondering why I'm learning morse code, you can read all about it here, here and here.) It was my Uncle Larry, fondly known as Uncle Klunk, after a character in a favorite childhood book. My dear Uncle has been the unsung hero behind my attempt to get an advanced ham radio license. It was he who informed me of the historic call sign belonging to my father and his father before him -- which could be mine after some earnest study. It was he who urged my brother to take a shot at claiming the family call sign and who, once my brother gave up, then heralded me into the odd world of Ham Radio, urging me to study things even my father dared not. It was he who knew of all the FCC regulations regarding the disbursement of Ham radio call signs to family members after a person dies. Yes the unsung hero and super supporter urging me to the heights of Ham radio.

Well, Uncle and I chatted amiably (he is truly an odd fellow and a nice reminder of my odd father) for about an hour. During the course of our conversation, I asked what my dad's call sign was, as I wasn't sure I had remembered it correctly. He informed me of the sign. As I had thought. Funny, I had looked the call sign up on an amatuer radio website a few days earlier, and hadn't seen my dad's name come up as the owner.

I thought I would try again.

I entered the sign into the callsign lookup space, entered it with hope and, I must admit, a bit of dread. I hit "search."

Up pops the owner of the call sign. Not my father. But a woman. A woman who lives in Idaho.

I immediately dialed Uncle Klunk. I blurted into the phone as soon as he answered.

"Uncle Larry, someone already has my dad's call sign."

My poor uncle. He, too, had discovered this awful turn of events, but having consulted the oracles (my cousins) he chose not to reveal the disaster to me, hoping that a certain chain of events would not occur.

However, the dreaded chain of events did occur. It appears that "THE WOMAN," as she henceforth will be known, must have done a little detective work. See, my father's call sign expired in August of 2006. And 30 days before it expired, the soon-to-expire call sign was posted on a ham radio website. Each expired call sign has a 2-year extension where the original owner (my dad) could renew it, unless that original owner has died. If someone has died, as in the case of my father, its basically up for grabs. Since I was dragging my heels on the last ham radio exam (which I needed to pass to get the license--I've been a little busy this year), my uncle gambled that I could still get the call sign a month or two after it expired -- as no one would research whether my dad had died.

But he was dead wrong.

Due to supersleuthing, my uncle discovered that not only did THE WOMAN covet this call sign, the elusive and familial sign, she somehow obtained the social security documents that proved my dad was dead, and submitted those along with her application for the sign to the FCC.

The rest they say, is history. THE WOMAN got the call sign in August. Uncle has informed me that it is useless to call up THE WOMAN to tell her of my plight and implore her to let go of the sign. No, if she relinquished the sign, any old joker (myself included) could apply for the sign. The FCC does a lottery to determine the winner, and I'd be only one of a long line of jokers lined up for the treasured two-letter call sign.

So death is the only way back in for me. Once she dies, I can stealithy submit either SS papers or an obituary and apply for the sign.

Needless to say, I pushed my morse code test out for a few weeks. I'm not quite in mourning. I'm in shock.

A day in the life

This is me, after studying for a series of amateur radio test for two years, then finding out someone took my dad's call sign just as I'm about to succeed. Aren't I cute right towards the bitter end?

Darling Baby

My darling baby ate strips of bread and green beans by herself tonight. She picked them up and they (for the most part) found their way into her mouth. Elated? She was. In awe? I am.

I keep thinking about my maternal grandma, Anna Smith (pictured, doesn't Ila look a bit like her?). She had 12 children. I wonder what kind of person you would be if you experienced the sweetness of discovery that a new life shares with you 12 times. I only met my grandma in person twice as she lived in Missouri, but from all reports she was a sweet and loving mama. If only my life were long enough to experience this beauty 12 times! Savor I must.

Ham Radio Test

I passed!! Now I just need to pass the morse code test, more waxing poetic after that. Off I go to study dots and dashes while baby sleeps...

Pray for me

Why do I have to learn about Ham radio? Why? Why do I have to learn about circuit components and circuits? (If you are really driven, bored and out of the loop, click here to read why I am even bothering to learn about Ham radio.)

Morse code is another thing altogether. I don't mind learning it. I love it. My uncle bought me a great set of audio cds to learn morse code fas called Code Quick. Each letter is remembered not by memorizing the traditional dots and dashes, but through soundalikes. For example in morse code, the "d" is - ** (dah di di). But in the wonderful world of soundalikes, the sound associated with "d" is "dog did it." The image (pictured) of the dog "doing it" is a dog taking a poo on a carpet.

So, to learn "d" you commit the image of the dog and his horrible deed to mind -- along with the soundalike "dog did it" -- while you listen to the a "d" being keyed in morse code. In addition, and this is the best part, the creator of the program narrates a story that is designed to have an emotional charge. For "d" the story goes something like this: "look at that dog. he left a stinking mess on the carpet. this is something we can all relate to... who in your family is going to get the privilege of cleaning it up?."

For each letter of the alphabet, I get a similarly delightful and amusing story and image. To see for yourself how it works, check out this little clip on the Code Quick website.

Now, back to studying.

Oh yeah, pray for me, my test is this weekend. I am far from being able to pass it.