Happy 2015!!!

It's a new year!  Happy new year to you and yours.

A lot happened in 2014.  Seva was born.  I spent three months at home on paternity leave.  I opened my own law practice.  Jeannie and I bought our first home.  Seva traveled internationally for the first time in her short life when we went to Colombia.

I'm thankful for all these changes, since they represent positive progress in my life: healthy challenges and proud milestones.  To begin a new year with the previous one being a good one is a great feeling.

So, what are my hopes and goals for 2015?

• first and foremost, life, for which I thank God always
• good health for my loved ones
• to love others, most especially my wife Jeannie and my beautiful daughter Seva
• to serve my clients to the best of my ability
• to grow my law practice steadily and successfully
• to enjoy our new home, from dinners with friends to hanging out in the back patio
• to read lots of interesting, diverse, entertaining, and thought-provoking books
• to travel internationally at least once
• to see and spend time with friends who I haven't seen in a while
• to forgive others of their trespasses against me and to forgive myself of past sins
• to serve well and develop leadership skills in my two board of director positions
• to develop my relationship with God, through prayer and attending church regularly
• finally, to become a better man, in every role and relationship in my life

If you can, please say a prayer for me to accomplish these hopes and goals in 2015.  For my part, I wish you the very best for good health, love, and success in 2015.  May God bless you and your loved ones!

2nd day of Daycare

About an hour ago, I dropped-off Seva for her second day of daycare.  When it was time for me to leave and say goodbye, she was so busy reaching for her new friend Carter's face that she didn't pay any attention to me leaving.  It was just as well that way.  I told the staff there that I'll stop in for a visit later today, maybe around lunchtime, to see how she's doing.

Seva seemed to do just fine on her first day yesterday.  I stopped in for a visit in the mid-afternoon.  She and almost all the other babies were napping, so I didn't get to see her interact with the other children.  The staff told me that Seva was a bit fussy for a good chunk of the morning, probably from being in a new environment with no one familiar.  She didn't eat quite as much as usual, but it wasn't anything that would cause any worry.  Overall she seemed to have a pretty good day.

Although my father-in-law, John, had been doing a pretty good job watching Seva for the past two months, Jeannie and I decided that the pros of sending her to daycare finally outweighed those of having her watched by John.  We really want her to socialize with other children her own age.  And we want her to be stimulated and to learn from people whose job is dedicated to exactly that purpose.  John is 72 years old (if I'm not mistaken) and he's losing his hearing.  Although there's no question that he loves Seva and cares for her very much, we felt that his level of attention and ability to stimulate Seva was good, but not to the same level that she would get at daycare.

Obviously we hope that we've made the right decision.  I guess this is one of the early decisions out of many, many more that we'll have to make in Seva's best interest.  May God guide us throughout all our decisions.  I hope we're good parents.

Changing topics now, I still feel regret and guilt from time to time about the changes in my relationships with others and also my past relationships.  I know that life always changes and so nothing is ever guaranteed to stay the same.  But I also miss some of my friendships, I feel bad about how I treated some people, especially ex-girlfriends and girls I've dated, and I miss "the old days."  Maybe I'm just getting old (haha) and wistful.  Looking at it logically, though, I guess this is what growing up is all about.  Just like anyone else, I was bound to make mistakes and, unfortunately, many of those mistakes came at the expense of other people's feelings.  Also, as I've gotten older, I realize that there is nothing that should compel me to remain friends with people whose values I disagree with.  My last job at PLA was a great example.  When I first started working there when I was much younger, it matched my values and ideals to a great degree.  I still admire the boundless optimism that I had when I wrote my application letter to law schools, referencing my job at PLA.  Over the course of my term there as a lawyer, though, the culture there changed.  Or maybe I changed.  Or maybe it was just the mixture of personalities that happened to be there over the course of that time.  It was likely a combination of all those things, and perhaps more.  Bottom line is that I didn't like it there, I didn't feel comfortable, and the culture frankly sucked.  Fine, no problem.  I'm not going to change anyone, and I didn't have the energy or interest in that environment to do so, thus I left.  Even with all that being true, however, there's still a bit of a vacuum for the kind of office culture and work relationships that I hope to have.  With God's grace, I'll hopefully be able to begin and develop new relationships.  I've already become active with a couple of excellent pro bono projects, to which I'm volunteering my time.  This is my true self.  And to any haters at PLA or beyond, I'll let my actions speak for me, without promoting myself on facebook like someone desperate for greatness (you know people like that, I'm sure).  I'm gonna work hard, I am working hard, and I'm gonna help people.  Let that be enough.  And may God forgive me of my sins.  And may I forgive myself for the changing of the seasons and the passing of time, and therefore accept that the past belongs where it is, as I look forward to the future that awaits, according to God's will.

Seva's first subway ride

Yesterday (Sunday, August 24th) was Seva's first ride on a subway.  Seva loved it.  Jeannie and I picked up the Broad Street Line at Walnut-Locust station, then transferred at City Hall to the Market-Frankford Line, which we took to the Spring Garden station.  Especially during the longer ride on the MFL, with Seva sitting on my lap in a window seat, she looked intently out of the window at the lights periodically spaced out between the stations and then she looked curiously at the station whenever we were stopped.  For only being four and a half months old, she certainly seemed to enjoy it.

Once we got off at the Spring Garden station we walked down to Delaware Avenue and then over to Morgan's Pier, for an "event" or better yet evening of Polido Social Club.  The Morgan's Pier website calls it:

The Polido Social Club is a weekly hang out of sunset riverside explorations curated by a revolving cast of tropical taste makers. Polido is a term Portuguese folks use for polite, polished, sleek, and smooth ~ which is exactly the type of evening vibe the social club wants you to feel.

It was a very nice evening.  We sat on high chairs facing the marina on the Delaware River.  The sun was out for most of the time.  And there was a cool breeze coming off the river.  There was a speaker on the floor just below our chairs, so we could hear the music playing.  There was a pretty good crowed, but it wasn't crowded.  I drank a lemonade, Jeannie drank a cranberry juice mixed with lemonade, and we shared french fries with garlic aioli sauce.  Seva did a great job hanging out.  And we had a really good time as a family, along the Delaware River, just north of the Ben Franklin Bridge.

Tonight we had a big dinner.  We hosted my mom, Jeannie's dad, and our friends Katy and Andrew (and their 6 month-old daughter Grace).  I cooked chicken seasoned with Adobo, black beans with Goya Recaito sauce, and white rice in boiled chicken bouillon cubes.  I received good reviews all around.  Jeannie made some homemade lime fizz by squeezing lime juice into sparkling water and a teaspoon of turbinado sugar.  For an unplanned, impromptu get-together, I think we did a great job.

Seva's first time to the ocean

I wonder who's reading these posts?  I often wonder that, but today I'm putting it in writing.  Whoever you are, I hope that you're enjoying what you're reading.  I can't imagine that my life or my thoughts are that interesting to anyone besides me.  But then again, I think I would be interested to hear or read how others live their lives and the thoughts they have on a daily basis.  Each person's life is a journey and everyone has a story to tell.  So in that regard, I guess I shouldn't downplay what I share here.

With that brief preface, my dear reader, now that I've broken the fourth wall, let me tell you a little bit about my weekend.

Yesterday was Seva's first trip to the ocean.  Jeannie, Seva, and I drove to Brant Beach on Long Beach Island to visit my aunt Judith, uncle Ray, and cousin Marc.  Jess had gotten there a couple hours before we did.  Seva got some sand between her toes and Jeannie even held Seva up when a wave came up to shore to get Seva's feet wet.  Seva, in her usual demeanor, was very calm and observant of the whole scene.  Of my extended family members there, she seemed most intrigued by her great-aunt Judith, with whom she seemed to have a connection.  I guess the fact that aunt Judith was so interested in Seva probably helped too.

We hung out on the beach for a couple hours, from about 3:30pm to 5:30pm.  I got the ocean for a while, a good 20 to 30 minutes I'd say.  The weather was pristine: highs in the 80s, clear blue sky, occasional light breeze, and the icing on the cake was warm ocean water.  Once I dove under that first wave to get myself wet, the water was absolutely relaxing.  In my entire life, I've rarely experienced the Jersey Atlantic at that temperature.  It was a real blessing.

We all went inside for a dinner of burgers, hot dogs, and potato salad, along with a glass of Jersey Devil white wine, diluted a bit with some ice cubes and club soda (the wine was pretty sweet).  After dinner, I had a few pieces of diced cantaloupe as dessert.  And we told stories, some of them about my grandfather and some about my father.

My aunt Judith described my father's relationship with his father as "contentious."  She said that her father didn't really interact with her and aunt Susan, because they were girls, so her father actually had the closest relationship with Pito, although that wasn't necessarily saying much.  She said that her father was "critical" of others.  Cousin Marc gave the example that even I would have been criticized for having hair too long (right now, my hair is completely buzzed on the sides and I have less than an inch of hair on top, not even long enough to style).  I guessed that my grandfather's military background in the U.S. Navy played a part in that mentality.  Aunt Judith said that her father would just disagree to disagree: "if you said white, he'd say black."  One thing I learned was that my grandfather willingly chose to join the U.S. Navy during World War II.  Uncle Ray explained that having a family was an exemption to being enlisted, so my grandfather could have used that as a reason to stay home.  Aunt Judith said that, among her classmates in school, her father was the only one away in the military.  When I asked if my grandfather used the war as a way to "escape" life at home, aunt Judith said that was always her impression.  She said that she was raised by and large by her mother's parents (my great-grandparents), so that when her father returned from the war, he and even her mother were still merely "substitute parents."  I found that really interesting.  She concurred what I had heard that my grandfather acted like a drill sergeant by personally coaching my dad at the track directly across the street from their house in Englewood, pushing my dad to run faster, holding a stopwatch and timing the intervals.

We also heard the funny story, which my sister brought up, about my dad wanting to date a black girl in high school and my grandfather finding out and chasing my dad in circles in the yard outside the house.  I remember my dad telling me about this episode that he tried to reason with his father that he coached black kids on the track team, so it should be okay for his son to date a black girl.  It didn't matter to my grandfather.  Although they lived in a suburb of New York City, the fact remained that this was 1960s America.

Jess also brought up a story that was completely new to everyone at the table.  According to her, Pito baked pot brownies and gave them to his parents.  Uncle Ray laughed at the thought of my grandfather stoned, saying "I would've loved to have seen that."  I'll have to ask Pito if that story is true.

Cousin Marc told a story about how Pito had let him drive his car at the age of 12.  He said that they were all in Forked River (at my grandparents' house at 842 Wave Drive) and my dad asked Marc, then age 12 or so, if he wanted to drive.  Obviously Marc said yes, so without telling any of the other adults there, my dad took him out in his car.  Marc said that he first drove while my dad controlled the pedals, then they switched.  My dad told Marc not to tell anyone, but as soon as Marc walked in the door and someone asked him what he was doing, Marc said "Uncle Francis let me drive!" to which my grandmother dropped something in the sink and aunts Judith and Susan, who were sitting at the kitchen table, looked at him in shock.

Marc also told the story about the time that my dad picked him up at school in some kind of red convertible, with his mother (my aunt) in the passenger seat.  He said that all his classmates were in total disbelief, saying something to the effect of "whoa! that's your dad?!" since they knew Marc's mother and they just assumed that it must have been Marc's father in the driver seat.  Marc said that, growing up, he always wanted to grow up to be like Pito.  That's kind of funny for me to hear, being his son.  I can also see that my dad was clearly rebellious against his father.

Aunt Judith said that her father disagreed in some way with Pito's decision to go into the Peace Corps.  And it wasn't until my grandfather (and grandmother) visited Pito in Costa Rica and saw what he was doing there that he had any kind of respect for the decision.  I type this here almost verbatim from what aunt Judith said last night.

To step back from all these stories, I must state that it had been at least 15 years since I'd seen aunt Judith, uncle Ray, and cousin Marc.  As best as I could recall to Jeannie during our car ride there, I'm pretty certain that I last saw my paternal extended family at my cousin Stephen's wedding, when I was a sophomore (as best I can remember) in college.  Now that I had a chance to reconnect with them and especially after hearing stories of my dad, I realize that it's important to continue building my relationship with my dad.  I also think about the handful of people in my life that don't seem to like me (namely a few of my coworkers at PLA) and I realize that I need to stick with all the people who do seem to like me and care about me.  And between so many of my friends, plus the unconditional love of family, I see that I'm a very fortunate guy.  And that I don't need to let the prejudice of a handful of others get me down.

We drove home late last night.  We got home around 11pm.

This morning I did the welcome remarks and the first reading at mass at St. Charles Borromeo, which I had been scheduled to do for a few months back.  I felt embarrassed by the fact that I've missed Sunday mass for about the past month.  But I'm very thankful that I had this commitment this morning to urge me to finally go again.  As I have before, I got compliments from a few people afterwards that I did a good job, from Ms. Richardson, from Sandy, and from our friends Pete and Vanessa, who also attended (and who I didn't see until I returned to my seat next to Jeannie after the first reading).  It felt good to be back.  It really did.

Afterwards, Pete, Vanessa, Jeannie, Seva, and I went to brunch at Cafe Ynez.  I ate an omelette with orange juice.  It was good.  Although I started feeling a bit tired during brunch (especially my voice, which always seems to be one of the first indicators that I'm tired), it was nice to spend some time with friends, talking about marriages, buying a house, and traveling the world.

As if I didn't realize how tired I was, I later took a long nap on the couch in the afternoon.  Nothing like a summer Sunday afternoon nap!

Finally, to rejoin the theme of reconnecting, we drove to Cherry Hill this evening to meet my old friend Shay and his family for dinner at their house.  Shay cooked a whole bunch of stuff on the grill and we ate inside at the dining room table, while talking about all sorts of things.  I haven't seen Shay since probably around 2002 or so.  He looks a bit heavier and just a little bit older, but he really mostly looks the same.  When we first got there, his wife Eki took us on a tour of their backyard, where they have a couple chicken coops, a couple rabbit pens, three ducks walking freely, and fish pond, and various vegetable garden enclosures.  It was amazing to see their ingenuity in using their suburban backyard to provide for their family.  Shay even installed a couple solar panels on the main chicken coop.  It was impressive to see.  I really enjoyed seeing him and catching up with him.  As I told him before we left, I hope we can see each other again soon, certainly much sooner than 10 years from now.

All in all, it was a good weekend.  My only minor frustration is that I feel that I've spent such little quality one-on-one time with Jeannie; for the past week, she's been so tired or in such a business state-of-mind that it's either been not possible or not fun to hang out with her.  I'm only eight months into this journey called matrimony, but I knew these kinds of challenges, mostly brought on from external conditions, would inevitably come.  I will say this though: no matter what I'm very happy to be married.  Especially to Jeannie.  I very much prefer it to the alternatives, which I've lived through before.  So for everything -- from the weekend to life itself -- I thank God.  Now time for bed.....

Reconnecting with Family

I just got off a half-hour Skype call with my cousins Carlos and Enrique; they could see me, but because their camera wasn't working I couldn't see them.  But it was great to hear both their voices and catch up with them.  Especially after what I wrote about Carlos just a few days ago.  It goes to show you (and me) that you can never assume anything and that communication is very important to dispel any incorrect assumptions.  I'm feeling pretty happy right now.

At the end of the call, I told them that I was going to get my daughter, but when I came back on screen I was holding up Rocky.  I asked them rhetorically if he looked like me; I got a good laugh from them on that one.  Then, a minute later, I actually brought Seva into the picture.  She had been crying in her crib upstairs (probably because she could hear my voice speaking loudly downstairs).  Although she calmed down for a minute, she started crying again (probably because she was tired at this late hour), so I had to end the call.  I told Carlos, though, that I hope to talk with him again soon.

We had a few good laughs during our conversation; it was really good.  Now that I'm writing about it, it makes me think for the first time that I'd like to go back to Costa Rica at some point.  I hadn't felt that way until now.

Sticking with the theme of reconnecting with family, Jess is going to visit our Aunt Judith and Uncle Ray in Long Beach Island this weekend.  A couple of our cousins may be there too.  Jess passed along Judith's invitation for Jeannie, Seva, and me to go.  And I think we just may take them up on the offer, which would be the first time I've seen the paternal side of my family in many years.

Finally, I just want to add a comment relating to a thought that I'd had earlier today, a thought that came back to me and was reconfirmed after my Skype call with my cousins: I have been much, much happier being away from [...].  It's now been about two months that I've been away.  I reflected and realized today that I'm turning a corner now where my mental and emotional health is finally healing.  I finally feel like my old self!  It's a great feeling.  And it's a sign that I'm heading in the right direction, towards good and away from a bad vibe.  I feel great and I'm thankful.

Weekend Recap

We had a great weekend, even though it didn't go according to plan.

Friday night we drove out to Media to visit our friends Katy, Andrew, Deb, and Antoine.  We had fun brainstorming over cheese, wine, and other snacks.  It was a productive night and I look forward to the next steps that will come from that meeting.  The only downside was Jeannie's prediction came true: we'd get home so late that we'd be tired and sleep in on Saturday, causing us to cancel or postpone our plans to take a road trip South.

As such, most of Saturday was a day of rest.  I can't even say that I remember what we did, except that we stayed in the house for most of the day.  If I recall correctly, I folded some laundry that had been in the dryer for a day or two, and I did some reading.  But then some time in the late afternoon, around 5pm I wanna say, I suggested to Jeannie that we take a walk.  She agreed, so we packed-up Seva and we headed out.  The weather was exceptionally cool for this time of year; I just heard that the high temperature yesterday was only 77 degrees.

Our first destination was the Wine & Spirits store on Market Street.  After taking our last bottle of red wine to Katy and Andrew's place, I thought we needed to restock.  We got three bottles: two bottles of malbec and one bottle of tempranillo from the Rioja region of Spain.  Right before we got there, though, I saw a couple of men standing in the middle of the sidewalk and looking at a map.  Once we were near them, I spoke up and asked them if they needed directions.  They asked in which direction was the river, to which I replied: "which one?  The Schuylkill is that way (pointing west down Market Street), and the Delaware is that way (pointing back east on Market)."  After chatting with them for a couple minutes while walking west, we found out that they were a couple guys from Australia, probably in their 50s, looking to head back to their hotel after they'd gotten a drink or two at a bar.  They said that they were in town for a combination of business and pleasure, and that they needed to get ready for dinner.  I was happy to have pointed them in the right direction.  Hopefully they enjoyed the rest of their time in the 215.

After getting our wine, we walked around somewhat aimlessly for a while, looking for a place to get a sweet snack.  I won't even go through the progression of places that we considered and/or actually went to.  I'll skip to the point that we finally decided to go to Miel, on 17th Street, where we each got a chocolate cube dessert, which we ate at a table on the sidewalk.  We noticed a lot of people wearing lanyards, indicating that they were very likely in town for some sort of convention.  I commented to Jeannie how so many people walk in public without making any eye contact at all with anyone else, as if everyone is scared to interact with a stranger.  While sitting there, I on the other hand looked at everyone who walked by; perhaps this was easier and less potentially intimidating to others since I had Seva standing with my assistance on my lap for most of the time.  Anyway, we had a nice time sitting there for a while, enjoying the cool, comfortable weather that I already mentioned.

Due in great part to that great weather, as well as a feeling (for myself at least) of being out of the house and enjoying it, I suggested to Jeannie that we continue our walk by getting burgers at 500 Degrees.  Jeannie agreed, so we walked over to the 1500 block of Sansom.  We each got a burger, and Jeannie got a side of truffle fries, which we split.  Again we sat at a table on the sidewalk.  After eating I went in to wash my greasy hands and when I came out, there was a guy sitting at another table next to ours.  He was asking Jeannie, then me, for advice on whether he could take a 19 year-old girl into Rumor.  I gave some advice to him as best as I could.  And we chatted for a few minutes.  He said he was from the Congo.  I asked him: "Kinshasa?" to which he said "no," so I immediately smiled and said, "Brazzaville?" to which he was very impressed.  He said that he was in Philadelphia for the first time, visiting for a short period to practice his English (which was pretty good, other than an accent).  He said that he was living in Paris, which was common practice for Africans who want to create a better resume for themselves and thus open up better job opportunities for when they return to the Congo.  At the end of our short talk, I gave him my personal business card.  I enjoyed our short, impromptu meeting.

On our walk home, we stopped through Rittenhouse Square, where we saw a gathering at the main entrance to the park, at the corner of 18th & Walnut Streets.  There we saw a recognizable Philly street singer singing to a small crowd.  We walked up to join everyone and listen in for a few songs.  At the end of one song, the singer announced to the crowd that, in addition to being a singer, he was also a psychic.  He approached a woman in the crowd and asked if her name was Patricia; she nodded yes.  She was standing next to her boyfriend.  Then, the singer began singing a happy song (which I didn't recognize, but Jeannie did).  I forget how they got there, but the girl and her boyfriend ended up listening to the song from a more prominent position in front of the singer.  Then, about halfway through the song, the boyfriend stepped away from the girl, reached his hand into his pocket, pulled out a ring, dropped to one knee and proposed to her.  The singer stopped singing, while the music kept going, but pretty low.  The girl indicated that she said yes and the crowd cheered!  In honor of the couple, the singer immediately began singing Etta James' famous song, "At Last."  It was a very touching and authentic moment.  I saw some women wiping tears away from their eyes.  It was great to be there to see and experience all that.

Shortly after getting home, Jeannie changed Seva's diaper.  I was downstairs.  Seva must have been revved up and excited, because as Jeannie was changing her, Jeannie was asking questions about our walk, to which Seva answered by just yelling pretty loudly for her little body.  It was hilarious.  After a couple minutes of this, I came upstairs to capture it on video, but I only caught the very tail-end of it.  It was funny, though, hearing Seva really test her lungs and assert herself.  Jeannie and I were both laughing.

Finally, Jeannie and I slept in this morning.  It was another cool day and another day of rest.  We watched the movie "Coach Carter" on tv.  Then later in the afternoon, while still sitting on the couch, while Jeannie was holding Seva, I started to play with Seva, mainly by rubbing my head into Seva's hands and her belly and chest.  Seva started laughing!  It was such a funny and beautiful moment.  We really had fun.  It was one of those moments where we were all together as a family and just enjoying being together.

So I guess you could say that, although the weekend didn't go exactly according to plan, it was a great weekend, and for that I thank God.

Conflicts

It's amazing that there continues to be conflict all over the world.  It was like that when I was a little kid.  It's like that now.  Why should we believe that it's ever going to be any different?  Why is there conflict at all?  One answer is that we have free will.  Another is that, for all our similarities, we want to feel unique, so we play up our differences: nationalities, political parties, religions, skin color, et cetera.  By following our own human nature and playing up our differences, rivalries and tensions develop.  An 'us-versus-them' mentality develops.  So that's another answer to why there is perpetual conflict throughout the world.  Another answer is man's tendency toward sin and temptation: especially in the form of power (pride); this stems from man's natural insecurity, both materially as an animal that strives to survive at all costs, and emotionally as beings that compensate for internal insecurity by manifesting external power.

Another issue is that no relationship, nor anything at all for that matter, is static.  The universe is dynamic.  Your body and every person's body is dynamic.  People change and thus that makes the relationship between and among people dynamic.  I can think of easy examples in my own life right off the top of my head.  In fact, it's a theme that's been on my mind a lot lately.  I perceive that my relationship with my cousin Carlos isn't what it used to be or what it could be.  When I write a short note or message to him, his responses are either stock and pithy (the latest one was simply "gracias primo") or he simply uses an emoticon (usually a 'thumbs-up' icon) to acknowledge my note without having to engage in any substantive dialogue.  Assuming my perception is really accurate, I have no idea what's going on.  Is he jealous because I got married? and/or because I've become a father?  Did I slight him in some way the last time I was in Costa Rica?  I have no clue.  I suppose I can ask him what's going on.  That would be the mature, logical thing to do.  I think I may be afraid of the answer.  But then again, the cold hard truth should always be preferable to living under a hazy assumption, shouldn't it?

Next I think of my relationship with my friend Paul.  I still consider him to be my friend, though we're not as close as we used to be.  If you look back at previous posts here, around the 2008 time frame, Paul is a major player.  We spent a lot of time together.  We traveled together, to Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, to his parents' home in Tampa, Florida, and even to Costa Rica back in the day.  I had a close relationship in those days, the late 1990s through the entire decade of the 2000s.  I kept my mouth shut on certain things that concerned me, because I enjoyed my time with him.  We had fun together.  In a very real way, at a time when we were young adults, flexing our wings (if that's even a proper saying) and coming into our own, we were each other's family -- at a time when we needed to prove our individuality separate and apart from our own respective families.  But as time passed, and perhaps when I became more comfortable in my adulthood, or perhaps wasn't having as much fun spending time and traveling with him, or perhaps when I had met other friends and thus didn't feel like I needed or depended upon my friendship with him -- whatever the case was -- I felt that I needed to communicate with him my concerns about his beliefs as expressed in words: using the word "nigger" to pejoratively describe a dark-skinned American of African descent, then a couple years later using the word "dyke" to describe a female mayor of some northern New Jersey city, either Hoboken or Jersey City.  After each separate incident, I wrote a letter by hand and sent it to him, expressing my disapproval.  Was this the right approach?  I thought so.  I still think so.  But maybe not.  Should I have talked with him face-to-face?  My main takeaway, as I write this now, is that I shouldn't invest too much time in a friend with such negative, prejudiced, and outdated beliefs.  In short: surround yourself with good people.  But then I ask myself, who am I to judge him?  Be soft on the sinner, but not on the sin!  Did I practically give up a friendship for the foolish objective of proving a principle?

This tug of war between philosophical poles happens quite frequently in my head.  I think part of it is the guilt -- justified or not -- at having effectively ended a friendship.  I think the other part is a realization that life is not guaranteed to remain static, things will change, and this logically leads to a realization, whether explicit or implicit, that life will eventually end: after all these changes and changes, death shall come.

I've written previously that a break-up from a girlfriend is very analogous to these existential realizations.  The relationship died.  It's as if the ex-girlfriend is dead, although we know damn well that she's alive somewhere, probably with some other guy already.  A break-up is a foreboding of death.  It's a terrible feeling...to be reminded of one's own mortality.  And yet we're reminded of it all the time, whether looking outwardly at all the conflict in the world, the people, the children!, being killed in war, or whether looking inwardly to our own failed relationships.  What's the answer?  I can't say I know, other than to keep on living, find something to believe in, put one's gifts and talents to the best use possible to be productive and self-fulfilling, and be with (or be open to be with) someone you love and who loves you.

Date night and spending time with others

The weekend began on Friday evening with Jeannie and I going on our first date since the birth of Seva.  We went to dinner at Audrey Claire, then drove to PPL Park to catch the second half of Crystal Palace at Philadelphia Union, then we drove over the Commodore Barry Bridge into South Jersey to hit up the WIF (Water Ice Factory) in Magnolia before heading back to pick-up Seva and go home.

The highlight yesterday was visiting Jeannie's friend, Sam, who had a small gathering at his home on Lincoln Drive.  Besides Jeannie, Seva, and me, there were only 4 others, so it was a pretty low-key event.  The weather was pretty nice, as it was on Friday too, so we sat on the deck out back.  I asked Sam's partner, Shin, a lot of questions about his native Tokyo.  And Jeannie and Sam reminisced quite a bit about their days in their international MBA program.

Before going to the gathering at Sam's, I found out from my friend Ronald that he will be visiting Philadelphia for one day in March 2015.  I'm really looking forward to seeing him.

Today was a day of rest.  I didn't set foot out of the apartment all day.  I watered the plants, drank coffee, gave myself a haircut, took a shower, spent time with Jeannie's friend Veronica who came over for a short visit before she had to leave for PHL, read my book, talked on the phone with my sister, spent time with Jeannie's dad who was here for the day giving us a hand around the apartment, watched the movie Superbad on Comedy Central, ate a great dinner prepared by Jeannie and her dad (shrimp with garlic, cod, rice with coconut milk, and lentils), and spent a lot of fun time with Seva at the end of the night.

Well, Jeannie just passed by and she's getting ready to go to bed.  Since I want the chance to spend time with her before she falls asleep, I'm going to wrap this up now and head up too.  Good night, dear readers.

Saw Philadelphia Union vs. Crystal Palace at PPL Park, section 131, row M, seats 7 and 8, for $38.00 each, with Jeannie.

Tidbits

Since I married Jeannie, I have not removed my wedding ring from my finger, other than rarely fiddling around with it during a meeting or while watching tv.

Seva laughed for the first time tonight.  It was a beautiful and amazing thing to see.  While Jeannie was cooking mac'n'cheese (with tuna & peas) for dinner, I was playing around with Seva.  While standing near the stove, I was holding Seva facing me, with her pelvis held against my mid-torso and her upper body angled away from my body, so she could look up at me.  I periodically dipped down, while smiling at her and encouraging her.  She responded positively and seemed to be having a good time.  And then, she started giggling.  She did it for just a couple of seconds after about a handful of the dips, then she didn't do it again.  When I looked at Jeannie, she had tears of joy in her eyes.  Like I said, it was a beautiful and amazing thing to see.

I also found out online today that there is a Seva Café right outside of Washington, D.C., in Alexandria, Virginia.  We'll have to go there some day, maybe soon.

Jeannie and I went a couple nights ago (on Saturday, July 19th) to visit my friend Javi and his girlfriend Gina.  We enjoyed a really nice evening of salad (made of kale, scallops, cashews), dessert (dates, figs, and sunflower seeds), moscato rosé wine, and coffee.  Javi also played some music for us, first on his various flutes, then on his guitar.  Jeannie had brought her guitar, so she played the only song she knows how to play, Blackbird (Beatles song), while Javi played one of his flutes.  At one point, while Jeannie went into the bedroom to feed Seva, I was able to speak en español to Javi and Gina; we discussed politics in Latin America.  All in all, we had a really great time.  I hope to spend time with them again.

I've noticed that Seva now weighs more than the Baby.  Speaking of the Baby, her right ear has been very dirty the last few days.  I clean it out with cotton swabs, but it seems to get dirty again.  And since I bring up the Baby, I should say that Rocky is doing well as always.  This evening he rediscovered the toy mouse that he goes stretches forgetting about; he kicked it around for a while and really had a lot of fun.

Tonight at the Y, I did a chest/arms work-out.  In my final set of bench press, I put up 195 pounds twice.  In my final set of dumbbell curls, I lifted 35 pound dumbbells 8 times each arm.  In my final set of incline bench press, I put up 135 pounds 4 times; that was at the very end of my work-out.  Overall it was a very good work-out.

Oh, a couple days ago, on Saturday, I helped Jeannie's dad move into his new apartment here in Philadelphia.  He's living just a few blocks away from Rittenhouse Square and he's no more than a short 8-minute walk from our place, so he'll be able to see Seva much more often.  This is great not just for him, but for me too in the short-term as he'll be available to watch Seva for short periods of time when I need to run an errand or take care of something and also for Jeannie and me in the medium-term as he'll be available for babysitting services.  I like my father-in-law a lot, so I'm happy to have him close by now.

Well, it's time to take out the trash and I should be winding down since I know Jeannie wants to go to start going to bed a bit earlier at night.  I thank God for all blessings and ask for God's blessing, protection, and guidance every day always, but especially in these next handful of months, when there will be so much change.

Seva's Progress

Seva is almost 14 weeks old.  And she continues to make progress, seemingly every day.  Jeannie just mentioned to me that, earlier this evening (while I was at the gym), Seva did not cry at all during her bath, not at any point from beginning to end.  This was a first.  Apparently she is getting used to getting bathed.  I think she even likes it now.

With that being said, though, there has not been one day in her short life so far in which she has not cried.  She cries every day: out of hunger; because she has a dirty diaper; because she doesn't want to be laid down, but instead continued to be held; because she wakes up alone and wants attention; or sometimes simply because she is getting sleepy.  A day will come when she will not cry at any point from when she wakes to when she goes to sleep for the night.  I'm looking forward to that day.

Jeannie also wanted me to write here that Seva discovered our DirecTv remote control on Tuesday of this week, and she's been mesmerized by it ever since.  The reason she likes it so much is that there is a part of it, near the middle, where there are buttons of several different colors (red, green, yellow, blue, orange, gray, and black) near each other.  The colors obviously draw her attention.  I witnessed it tonight for the first time.  It was very cute and funny; she would just stare at the remote control and follow it with her eyes no matter where I held it.

Finally, as I wrote in a text message to my mom earlier tonight, Seva seems to be more vocal and more emotive these days, especially at times when both Jeannie and I are around and talking with each other.  It's like Seva wants to join the conversation.  It's funny and also amazing to see her continue to develop, albeit in small incremental steps, but on a daily basis.  We've really been blessed.  As I write this now, she's sleeping in her crib upstairs, our beautiful baby girl.

My Wife is Beautiful

I gave a hug and kisses to Jeannie as she was about to walk out the door to work this morning.  She was wearing a black top and gray skirt and she looked absolutely amazing.  She's a beautiful woman, inside and out, and I'm very attracted to her.  I am so happy that I'm married to her.

As I write this, Seva is sitting in my lap, facing the computer screen.  I'm so grateful to be a father.  Seva is the product of my love for Jeannie, including everything I wrote above, and I'm just so happy that we're a family.

I'm happy for everything that is good in life.  I also understand that sometimes there are people and situations that are not good, and that's okay too, but that it's best to limit or even remove those people and situations from one's life.  There are some places where you belong and others where you don't.

Lightning and Progress

Today was Jeannie's first day back to work after three months of maternity leave, thus her first day at the office since early April.  That meant that today was my first day as stay-at-home dad with Seva.  I've had three preparatory experiences, though: once when Jeannie was feeling very overwhelmed and she went to stay at a hotel in Center City, another time when Jeannie stayed at a hotel overnight with her friend Marcella who was visiting us from out-of-town, and a third time when Jeannie went down to Washington, D.C. to spend the night with her birth mother who was in D.C. for a work-related conference.  So, today wasn't something totally difficult or new or overwhelming for me.  In fact, I enjoyed a pretty good day with Seva.

We danced while listening to music a couple times.  And as I've stated before, when Seva isn't sleeping, it's very often that she likes to be held, so I held her a lot today, often with her head either on my shoulder or, when she falls asleep, her face sort of planted into my neck between my shoulder and cheek/chin.  Seva definitely seems to like dancing; I'm not sure yet if it's the sound of the music or the motion that comes with dancing or a combination of both, but if she's not getting too sleepy she often lights up when we're dancing.

I tell ya, when Seva is awake and alert, without any pressing needs like food or a diaper change, she's a beautiful little girl.  There are moments when she just seems happy to receive attention and those moments are great.  I'm really happy to be a father.

Anyway, the other part of my title above is a reference to the pretty nasty lightning storm that we had tonight.  I was at the YMCA, doing some lifting when the storm began.  I had to run home in the rain.  As I got home, the storm seemed to intensify, with more and more lightning in the sky.  Our DirecTv signal was totally out, until it came on for about 20 minutes, just in time for 6abc to interrupt regular programming (The Bachelorette) with updates on the progress of the storm and warnings for what to do in the event of a tornado.  In the meantime, I cooked pork chops (seasoned with sea salt and Cajun seasoning), while Jeannie made rice (with light coconut milk and water).  Finally, the storm abated and we were able to watch the Bachelorette while eating dinner and while Seva sleep for a bit in her bouncy chair.  Overall, I'd say it was a good day and good night.

My mom

More often than not, I can't stand my mom.  I can only take her in small, infrequent doses.  Our best conversations are by telephone, since she actually listens and pays attention.  In person, she is easily distracted and generally doesn't listen.  In fact, in almost every single in-person conversation with my mom these days, I eventually say something to the effect of: "as I just mentioned a few minutes ago..." or "I already answered that question."  Thankfully, she's usually a better listener with others.  But even that being said, I find myself cringing or feeling shame when I can visually observe her fail to pay attention to someone else -- I can actually see that she's not listening to what they're saying.  What should I do in that situation?  Say something to her, thereby putting her on the spot?  I just let it happen.  I don't say anything.  I know that it's a combination of anxiety/attention deficit, along with good old-fashioned self-centeredness, that leads my mother to completely zone out of the conversation and into her own thoughts, usually in advance of what she's about to say next.

Do I act this way?  Possibly, but I sure hope not.  When I began my career as a paralegal at [...], I prided myself on my own development into a good listener.  It was something that helped my clients to gain trust in me.  And in my personal life, it helped me to quickly develop close relationships with the women that I met.  At this point in time, though, to be honestly self-critical, I feel that I've lost that skill to a certain degree.  As a paralegal I met with a high volume of clients on a daily basis; that helped to hone that skill to a highly developed level.  Now, as a lawyer, with a much lower volume of client contact and somewhat less frequency, I feel that my level of this skill has diminished somewhat.

Anyway, back to my mom, one of her downfalls is that she always talks as if she knows with absolute certainty what she's talking about, which wouldn't be so bad if it weren't so often on topics for which she has no real experience.  One of her favorite lead-in lines is: "they say...", to which I'll sometimes challenge her by asking "who is 'they'?"  In other words, she has no citations or authorities for her very bold opinions.

As a perfect example, my mom was very confident in a conversation with Jeannie today about how an IRA, like a 401(k), can be rolled-over into a Roth IRA.  Jeannie and I just met with a financial adviser today!  Jeannie told my mom that an already existing IRA cannot be rolled-over into a Roth IRA, unless of course the titleholder is willing to pay a large penalty fee.  Jeannie had to say this twice to my mom before she heard and understood her.  This example is typical of my mom.  She will be not just confident but stubbornly positive about her position/opinion, even if she has no backing for it.  Fortunately, Jeannie has a ton more patience than I do; it's one of the qualities I love most about her, since she certainly counterbalances me on that point.

Finally, to wrap-up this post, I'll admit that the impetus to write it was something that my mom said to me right before leaving earlier today.  As she was about to walk out the door, I came upstairs to bring a Gatorade bottle that she had left here from her previous visit.  I told her that she should take it since it was hers and I held on to it for her as she had said that I should.  My mom replied pointedly by saying "that's not true."  I felt angry right away and told her that I asked her to take it with her last time when she left, but she said then that I should keep it for her for the next time she came to visit -- which happened to be today.  She repeated "that's not true."  I felt very angry and asked her, "are you calling me a liar?" at which point Jeannie, who was already out the door with Seva, quickly said to my mom, "okay, let's go," in an attempt to ward off any kind of argument.  I wasn't in the mood to deal with it anyway, so I turned on my heels, went directly downstairs, and poured out the rest of the Gatorade down the kitchen sink, and recycled the plastic bottle.  This final vignette is another example of my mom: in her mind and memory, she can never be wrong.  It's so maddeningly annoying.  For which reason, I said that more often than not I can't stand my mom.

Saw Ireland vs. Costa Rica at PPL Park, section 119, row J, seat 3 for $40.00 with Jess, Mita, and Eric.

Church: Baptism and Confirmation

From today's Gospel reading: "But when he comes, the Spirit of truth, he will guide you to all truth."  John 16:12-15.  Just before logging on here, I read this.  In the name of Jesus, I pray for guidance.  Guide me, oh God, to the truth of who I am and where I should be.  Lead me away from temptations and from dead-ends.  Like any relationship, carry me forward, transport me to the future that awaits me, lead me to a position where you may best work through me to bring about your will.  I always pray that God bless, protect, and guide my family and loved ones.  Now, in addition to those repeated prayers for my family and loved ones, I ask that God bless, protect, and most especially these days guide me.

Tonight we ate chicken breasts and drumsticks, seasoned with Adobo with pepper, and green bean casserole on the side; I was responsible for the former, Jeannie for the latter.  As usual, we began with an appetizer of house salad: romaine lettuce leaves, grape tomatoes, crumbled gorgonzola cheese, dried cranberries, and candied walnuts.

While eating dinner we watched the movie Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues.  For all the bad press and negative reactions when it came out, I was thoroughly surprised.  I think it was as good as the first movie, more absurd and fantastic in its humor, but for my taste just as funny.

Right now, I can hear Seva fussing around in her crib upstairs, on the brink of crying.  I'm pretty sure she fights the feeling of falling asleep.  I also believe that she doesn't like to be left alone.  It should be interesting to see how these traits remain or adapt over the course of time as she gets older.  I'm also curious to see what kind of personality she's going to have or develop.  We love her so much.

I sent a letter by regular mail to Pito yesterday, inviting him to Seva's upcoming baptism.  I'm guessing he'll get the letter tomorrow.  I expect that he'll probably respond by immediately sending an email to me.  We'll see if he actually comes to Philadelphia.  I'd put the chances of that happening at around 10%.

Jeannie and I are set to be confirmed on Sunday, June 8th.  For me, this will finally be the confirmation that was denied me by Father Daniel Mahoney at Holy Name of Jesus Church in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania so many years ago, around the time I was in the 6th or 7th grade.  Father Mahoney refused to allow me to be confirmed, because I was going to wear sneakers to the confirmation.  It's ironic and pitiful that he was so doctrinaire that he would not let me be confirmed; ironic because I would venture to guess that Jesus Christ himself never wore a suit or dress shoes and pitiful because this story demonstrates that Father Mahoney was a sinner by putting doctrine above faith.  Upon a quick search just now, I see that Father Mahoney died in 2007.  May God forgive his sins and may he rest in peace.  And I thank God that I'll be confirmed in the Church in just a couple weeks from now.  As you, dear reader, may know from my posts over these past few months, I've been warmly welcomed at St. Charles Borromeo and I am committed to the Church.  I look forward to being confirmed.  Thanks be to God.

Week-End, and Origins of the name Seva

Another Memorial Day weekend in the books.  Jeannie, Seva, and I just got back from visiting Mita and Eric.  We had dinner together there: hot dogs, baked beans, and corn on the cob.  Our dessert was muffins topped with ice cream (my combo being double chocolate chip muffin topped with vanilla ice cream).

While there, my friend Shay called me back.  Jeannie, Seva, and I took a drive to New Jersey on Saturday afternoon and I stopped by a house in Cherry Hill, where the online white pages indicated Shay may live.  Luckily I was right.  His wife answered the door and chatted with Jeannie and me for a few minutes, catching me up on a few details of Shay's life.  Unlucky for me, though, Shay himself wasn't there, so I left my personal business card with his wife and she gave his cell phone number to me.  The connection was completed when he called me tonight.  And I hope to complete the circle when we, hopefully, get together some time soon.  During our short conversation tonight, he said that I was "like a brother" to him, which made me very happy.  I was very happy to hear his voice, for the first time in many years.  And I hope to see him within the next month, so we can finally catch up and renew our friendship.

Now, since it's still early in Seva's life, I want to tell the story of how we chose her name.  Jeannie had shared with me early in the pregnancy that, at some point when she was younger, in college if I recall correctly, she had a dream in which her daughter's name was revealed to her.  The name revealed was Evelyn.  So, Jeannie carried that name with her as she got older and kept it in mind as a name for her daughter.  I listened to Jeannie's story with an open mind.  I wasn't sold on the name Evelyn, but it was early in the pregnancy, so I didn't judge or decide, I just let it be.  At some time later, perhaps about halfway through the pregnancy, after Jeannie had told me that she was open to considering other names, I thought to myself about our daughter's mixture, namely racially and culturally in heritage and ancestry and I wanted to identify a name that somehow captured that worldliness.  I also thought about my own name, which is short and simple, but also unique, that is, not common in American culture.  I wanted to identify a name that also captured that simplicity, but otherness that I was looking for.  So one night, while here at home (in the same spot where I'm typing this now), I went on to Google maps to look at a map of France to look at names of towns and villages, hoping that one might grab my attention.  I started around Paris, zoomed in pretty far so I could catch names of many of the smaller villages too.  Nothing grabbed my eye, so I slowly scrolled south, south, south, until I got to the Mediterranean Sea, where I slowly panned down the coast, until I crossed the border into Spain, right around Barcelona, when I noticed the village name "Seva."  I liked it immediately.  I opened another tab to Google the name Seva and it came up with a disambiguation page on Wikipedia (here), which showed that the name also refers to selfless service, volunteer work, and work offered to God. That sealed the deal.  I loved the name from that moment.  So I called Jeannie, without telling her the name, and asked her to look on the map to see if she would identify the same name as I had.  She couldn't find it or she completely overlooked it, I'm not sure which one.  After several minutes, and feeling disappointed, I showed the name to her.  I told her not to make a decision, but just to let the name sink in and add it into consideration.  I'm pretty sure I explained the other meanings of the word and my logic leading up to it (in line with what I just wrote above).  Months went by, the pregnancy went on until the end.  I never brought it up again, although internally I was definitely pulling hard for the name Seva.  Jeannie brought it up a handful of times, showing that she was certainly considering it and I think testing it out as your name, but I never responded one way or the other.  I wanted to make sure that she wasn't led to the decision, but instead reached it on her own.  As I recall, it wasn't until the moment you were born, when the midwife or nurse asked for your name, I looked at Jeannie and she said "Seva," and I wholeheartedly agreed.  I love the name.  And in the 6 weeks since you've been born, we've gotten a lot of positive reaction to the name, making me love it even more.

Almost Time for the Memorial Day Weekend...

Once again, being in a rush to get to work this morning, I didn't pack my lunch as usual.  So I had to go out for a late lunch around 3:30 this afternoon.  I went to I-Green, where I had beef hand-drawn noodle soup.  It was excellent: the noodles were unmistakably fresh and homemade, the beef was delicious and well-seasoned, and the broth was very good.  On top of that, my waitress was so friendly that I thought she actually wanted to be my friend and a waiter who came by to tell me all the details about the history of hand-drawn noodles in China and their preparation there was so informative that I eventually wanted him to leave to let me enjoy the meal (I say this humorously).  And to top it all off, the whole lunch cost $7.50.  Oh, and they gave me a complimentary frozen yogurt cone at the end.  I will definitely be going back to I-Green!

I've decided to pour myself a glass of malbec, Callia Alta, 2012 vintage, to accompany me on the rest of this writing.  As I raise my glass to you, fine reader, I say "salud!"

Also as I write this, the Baby is curled up on my desk, in the back right corner, easily within arm's reach so I can pet her as I please.  I can hear her heavy breathing, as she looks at me out of the corner of her right eye.  I love the Baby (and Rocky too)!

I was happy to hear that Jeannie and Seva took a walk to visit Mita this afternoon.  I know that Mita is ecstatic to be a grandmother.  And I'm pretty sure that she would see Seva every day if we allowed her.  I get the sense that Mita restrains herself to respect Jeannie's and my wishes to be a family.  But I'm sure she was thrilled to get the surprise visit from Jeannie and Seva today.  It really makes me happy -- and I thank God -- that I've been blessed with such a wonderful wife and beautiful daughter.

After all the hurt and heartache that I went through at the end of my relationship with Ileana, and even more acutely through the painful break-up and immediate aftermath, I can say that God took me out of something negative, unhealthy, and toxic to bring me to something positive, healthy, and loving.  To all the people at work, but especially the young Haverford paralegals, I'd love to say: I got out of an abusive relationship (from your fellow alumna) and now I'm in a healthy relationship!!!  I'm more mature than to advertise my relationship, however, especially for such selfish, publicly-displayed vindication.  Besides quietly writing about it here, I'm not going to shove it in people's faces.  Inwardly, though, I take great pleasure and daily gratitude that God helped me out of something so bad to bring me to something so good.  Thanks be to God.

I made myself a promise that I would not return to Costa Rica until at least one of my family members there visits us in Philadelphia.  None of my family there knows of this internal promise.  And I know that for much of my family there the idea of coming to the United States at all is a near impossibility.  But there's some family that could do it.  And although Jeannie would love to go to Costa Rica, I'm committed to keeping my promise.  I'd rather visit Panama, where I've never been, than go to CR at this point.  The only thing that could possibly change my mind is when Seva gets old enough to develop enough curiosity in her roots to want to go and I (we) feel that the trip would benefit her as a form of experiential education.

I'm enjoying reading Mexico City Blues by Jack Kerouac, but it's so seemingly disjointed that it honestly doesn't seem to have a message.  I'm not sure what the take-away is, other than digesting a literary genius's nonsense.  But I'll read it because my attention span is not so great these days and it's sometimes important to read nonsense to be reminded of the absurdity of life and the importance not to take it too seriously all the time.

I just farted; it's rank.  Very high sulfur content.

Finally, as a sort of confession, I'd like to admit that I made a major blunder when I tried to pull the old switcheroo between two girls, one who I was dating, Priscilla, and her best friend, Joelle.  This was around 2010, if my memory serves me correctly.  I remember being out on the town with Evan and Corey, perhaps that last time that the three of us hung out together.  We were at Parc, where we met Priscilla and Joelle.  I was the only single one among the three of us at that point, so I somehow got both girls' phone numbers and I think they both got mine.  I was definitely attracted to Joelle right from the get-go.  But within a day or two after meeting, Priscilla took the initiative to reach out to me and show interest.  And that's the precise juncture where I made a mistake; I should have reached out to Joelle, the girl I actually liked, before responding and then playing into -- for the next four months (argghh) -- Priscilla's interest and advances.  Before I knew it, I was sucked in to a relationship that I didn't want.  I'm sure many guys, and even many girls, have gone through this experience.  But towards the end of it, my desire towards Joelle began to develop into something approaching an obsession, which made me irrationally believe that I could pull a switcheroo.  Even just writing about it now, I feel silly and a bit ashamed.  How the hell did I think I could pull that off?!  Well, when I finally got the courage to call Joelle for the sole purpose of seeing if she wanted to hang out, I found out very shortly thereafter that she immediately called Priscilla (her best friend!) what I'd done and that effectively ended the relationship with Priscilla and blacklisted me from any contact, let alone relationship, with the girl who I'd been attracted to from the beginning.

Oh well, as history would have it, I guess a relationship with either girl was never meant to be.  So be it.  Ironically, only about two months ago, Jeannie and I were in line at the Ikea in south Philadelphia when I saw Priscilla with her mother.  I felt like a total fool, as rightly I should have felt.  In retrospect, I should have approached her to beg her forgiveness for my inexcusable handling of the situation and for hurting her feelings in any way; I probably would have been met with a slap to the face, or maybe not since she was with her mother.  Come to think of it, her mother probably would have slapped me in the face.  So maybe it was best that I just played dumb and waited a few minutes, as I did, to give Jeannie the short version of the story.  That was the best I could do in terms of a confession at that time.

Monday night in the 215

I didn't bring lunch to work today, so I walked over to Reading Terminal Market.  That place has so much character.  I feel like a tourist when I'm in there.  There's just this feeling of history and culture -- and a certain kinetic energy and vibration there -- that makes it feel alive.  Maybe precisely because I was coming from the mundane, neutral (if not sometimes negative, energy-sucking) vibe at work, there's a certain escapism to being in Reading Terminal Market, from the buzz of all the people working there to all the people passing through.  I also think the variety of foods is some sort of subliminal reminder that there's a whole world out there.  That's a feeling I love to have.  It reminds me of Pike Place Market in Seattle or Jean Talon Market in Montreal or maybe even Camden Town Market in London, all places I've been in my travels.  Again, there's something transcendentally cultural about a good market, and Reading Terminal Market is up there with the best.

After work, Jeannie and Seva came with me (after a typically jam-packed ride on the 17 bus) to Neighborhood Books, so I could re-load on reading material, having just finished Blindness by José Saramago around the middle of last week.  Since the shopowner was closing -- we walked in just a few minutes before 7pm -- I quickly browsed the fiction section to come up with a couple good finds: Mexico City Blues (242 Choruses) by Jack Kerouac and Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez.  As I told the shopowner, I'm only looking for fiction these days that I can digest in short bits, since Seva is only five weeks old and thus my capability to concentrate on reading is not at its sharpest.  I need material that I can easily digest.

Finally, I just want to memorialize my feeling at this moment that life is pretty good.  I've been blessed with an amazing wife.  And in turn we've been blessed with a beautiful, healthy daughter.  Not to forget Rocky and the Baby, who've been my family for nine years now and whom I love dearly for their faithful love and companionship.  It's not as if we're without our challenges, don't get me wrong.  But I'm thankful for my home life.  As I write this, the Baby is below me to my left, making soft meow noises and gently requesting attention.  For all of this, I thank God.

Report on Mother's Day 2014

I've been meaning to write nearly every day for the past week, but either I've had other things that I had to do or I was too tired to sit down and write.  For the former, it almost always involved holding Seva and caring for her.  For the latter, it was a result of the former.

But here I am on a Tuesday night, hoping to finally catch up on this diary, to document my life over these last few days before it begins to fade into oblivion.  And these are days that are important to remember, since they're Seva's first days of life.

Two days ago was Mother's Day, Jeannie's first as a mother.  After morning mass at St. Charles Borromeo -- at which I read the rosario to the whole parish from the lectern before mass began and at which Jeannie received her first communion -- the three of us came home to our usual morning routine: I ate breakfast, made the bed, and watered the plants, while Jeannie ate breakfast and cleaned some dishes.  Although the plan at that point was to hit the road to meet up with Jess and Mita and Eric, I told Jeannie that I needed a nap before we left (and I thought she needed one as well).  So Jeannie handed Seva to me on the couch.  Jeannie went upstairs and fell promptly to sleep in her bed, while Seva fell asleep on my chest and I quickly followed suit.  Man, did we all need that nap!  It felt good.  I commented to Jeannie later that I'm sure it made a huge difference in my ability to enjoy the day; I just felt so much better.

Since it was Mother's Day and the next day was Jess's birthday, we stopped at a great store on South Street, Mushmina, to buy gifts for Mita and Jess.  For Mita, we bought a multi-colored scarf.  For Jess, we bought a clutch and a set of five casual wristbands.  Jeannie was lucky enough to get a parking spot directly in front of the store, where she waited with Seva in the car seat in the back.  I enjoyed a conversation with the shop owner, Katie, who told me the story of how she and her sister began the business and encouraged me to begin my own small business.  It was a nice talk and really helped to set me in a good mood for the car ride north to meet Mita and Jess.

It was a beautiful day: sunny, blue skies, moderately warm temperatures, a gentle breeze.  In short, a perfect day for a drive, Seva's first road trip at that.  The first part of the trip was driving northbound on I-95, but the drive became much more enjoyable when we exited and took local, winding roads through New Hope and northbound along the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware River to the small, previously unknown town of Erwinna.  In the shade of the small cliffs and hills to our left, populated with newly green trees in their springtime prime, with the wide river to our right, the drive was spectacular.  Its moments like that when I think of my family in Costa Rica and wish they were there to experience a piece of America not usually thought of as part of the stereotype, which usually consists of big cities, skyscrapers and large, lavish suburbia.  The drive exemplified one of those experiences that make you feel good to be alive, and thus one of those memories which will leave an indelible mark on the soul, though not easily related to others ("you had to be there to see it").

We met Jess, Mita, and Eric at the Golden Pheasant Inn, 763 River Road, Erwinna, Pennsylvania.  It was a beautiful location, just past a bend in the road characterized by a one-lane bridge.  Just across the street from the restaurant, on the other side of River Road, was the Delaware River itself.  Just behind the restaurant was the Delaware River canal, with a narrow red gravel riding path in between, on which at least one bicyclist passed while we were there.  By the time Jeannie, Seva, and I got there, we saw Jess, Mita, and Eric already sitting at a table in the back patio.  Mita and Jess were especially excited to see Seva.  Jess hadn't seen her since her visit to the hospital on Seva's second day of life.

Since our meal was a late lunch or early dinner, I suppose I should say that we enjoyed a nice supper together.  Jeannie and Jess ate duck breast, Mita had scallops, Eric had mussels, and I ate lamb shank.  Overall, we were all pretty pleased with the meal.  As we were finishing our food, I ordered a bottle of malbec to top things off: Trapiche Broquel, 2011 vintage.  It was pretty good, though still leaning a bit on the dry side.  Jeannie and I presented the gifts to Mita and Jess, who both seemed pretty happy.  Even though, we were tired on the drive home, it was a special day that was absolutely worth it.

When we got home, Jeannie and I watched the movie Ender's Game.  I had been wanting to see the movie, since I read the book about a year and a half ago, only a few months after I started dating Jeannie.  I remember still living at Bainbridge Street when I read the book.  We enjoyed the movie last night.  My main critique is the typical one for a movie based on a book: the book was better, since it was more textured, more detailed, and just more well-developed.  But for a movie of two hours or less, it was entertaining and kept us captivated for that time.  Ender's steadfast confidence and leadership effected my mindset at work yesterday.  While at the unit meeting and walking the halls afterwards, I felt a level calm that I don't usually feel at [...].  It was a good feeling, one that I hope to feel more often.

Anyway, getting back to Seva, it's been tough in some ways.  She's a beautiful girl and a good baby.  But like any baby that gets hungry or needs to be changed or simply wants to feel comforted and loved, she cries a lot, and it seems to be more so at nighttime.  Since I've been back to work for the past three weeks, it's hard.  I haven't slept a full eight hours, and probably not even a six-hour stretch, since she was born.  Jeannie has borne the brunt of the child-giving responsibilities, mainly because she's Seva's mother and can feed her, but also because she's on leave, so I guess she's the frontline these days.  I do what I can to help Jeannie, and on that I'm better on some days than others.  I give Jeannie a lot of credit.  She's done an amazing job so far stepping into and growing into the role of mother.  I'm so happy and proud that she's my wife and that she's the mother of my child.  My dear Seva, if you ever read this some day in the future, please know that your mother and I lost many hours of sleep, were sometimes pushed near the limits of our patience and endurance, and sacrificed our personal desires to care for you.  Of course we did this willingly.  We love you so much already, Seva, and I pray to God that our love continues to grow as we grow every day as a family.  But just like I didn't fully appreciate the difficulties of parenthood that others around have been through (not to mention my own parents!), I know that it may be hard for you to understand what we've done, until you become a parent one day, God willing.  I guess all I'm saying is that it's been hard, but it's very much worth it.  In fact, as I'm typing this, I can hear you crying upstairs, your mother talking calmly to you, trying to comfort you.

Well, what else can I write about at this point?  It's 11pm and I have to be up early to meet a law student intern at Family Court tomorrow; I'm supervising her to represent a client in a custody hearing before a judge.  I've thought about memorializing some of my interesting stories here, as well as some of my regrets (stated positively, my lessons learned from mistakes made).  But, as I just alluded, now isn't the time.  I've got only 30 pages left in the book I'm reading, Blindness by José Saramago.  I think I'll read the penultimate, 10-page chapter now, so I can hopefully finish the book tomorrow night.

May God bless you, dear reader.  Until next time.