Tinsel Town - Pt. 2

Now that I have copies of some of the photos we took while in the Big Apple, I thought I'd update the blog and tell you a bit more about my trip. The idea for the trip came when Mom and I were chatting about our enjoyment of the cheesy reality-TV show "Grease: You're the One that I Want". Each week, Jesse would go practice his guitar and I would sing along to the fifties tunes, voting for Max and Laura. When they won, I half-jokingly said to my mom, "We should go to New York and see the show. Just us girls!" What began as more of a "wouldn't that be fun?" became a reality, and we planned to visit NY, seeing a couple shows on Broadway.

We did see Grease (with Max and Laura), and it was a really fun show. It was different from the John Travolta movie, with songs in a different order and a lot more songs for the supporting cast. The addition of several fifties songs and an outstanding Frankie Avalon-like guardian angel for the "Beauty School Drop-Out" number (he descended from a giant soft-serve ice cream cone!) added to the fun. The audience was very enthusiastic, and the theater was pretty intimate, so there were many factors contributing to our enjoyment of the program. Max did well - though the more humorous guys in the cast tended to steal the audience's attention, but Laura did an excellent job and really showed that she'd deserved the part. All around, a fun time!

The next night we went to the Lion King. I'd heard so many people tell me that they'd loved this show - I had pretty high expectations. Carin had gotten us some great seats in the eighth row on the orchestra floor, and just before the show began the usher ran through, telling me to keep my elbows out of the aisle. No wonder - a giant rhinoceros manned by at least two people came lumbering down the aisle as the music began and the "animals" of Pride Rock welcomed the sunrise. It was truly a magical show - so beautiful in an artistic way that I'd not seen in other Broadway shows. The inclusion of so much African dance and music really made it something more than the Disney film. As we said when we came out of the theater that night: it was like nothing else we'd ever seen.

Well, of course, we did a lot more than see musicals, but if it were up to me and money was no object, I could have stayed for two more weeks and seen all the shows that were playing. Well - maybe not Legally Blonde: The Musical. Even I have my limits. But The Color Purple, Wicked, The Drowsey Chaperone, and many more looked so good, it was hard to walk by. It's probably a good thing that I don't live anywhere near to Broadway - I'd end up spending all my money and time on theater. Truly - this was a vacation to remember!

Strange Encounters

I picked up Marilee from the airport last week; she was returning from Noo Yawk. As we were walking out of the airport, some guy kicked a soccer ball into my pregnant wife's head. Not hard, mind you - merely a glance. She was frustrated and kept walking without any comment. The guy turned around and apologized. Unlike my wife, I recognized this guy from two of my all-time favorite places: Lord of the Rings and the TV show, LOST. It was Dominic Monaghan who played Merry in LOTR and Charlie in LOST. This was the closest I had been to a star that I actually liked (very few fit this list). Star struck as I was, in response to his apology I stammered out, "Anytime!" What an idiot. Of course, when I told Marilee who it was, she completely echoed my response. What a great day, especially for Marilee.

That strange encounter was followed by another one last night as Marilee and I were laying in bed debriefing the day. I always like to keep my hand on her belly just believing that little Malott might know that I was involved in his life too. I mentioned to Marilee that we had not yet felt any kicks and I was beginning to think this little guy was quite the slug bug. Just then under my hand I felt him kick the belly as if to let me know I had overstepped the mark. Great, it looks like I may have a son just like myself - sassy! Lord, help us!

NYC Part 1: Stay Puff

This last weekend I had an amazing opportunity to travel to New York City for four days. My mom, her best friend Pam, Pam's daughter Amanda, our family friend Carin, and her friend Angie, and myself all flew to NY and spent four days on the town. Rather than giving a quick overview of the fun times we had, I think I'll share my experiences in little excerpts - there's too much to say to condense it down to one entry. So, here's my first little story:

Although I've dodged morning sickness and am reveling in the joys of dairy products, I have recently developed a common symptom of pregnancy: swollen feet. My feet are normally very narrow. Long, but thin. My mom told me over the weekend that my feet were so long when I was born that I skipped right over the first newborn size of booties! When I was starting school as a child, I remember being so sad because all the girls wore these black, patent leather slip-on shoes, but my heel was so narrow that they refused to do more than slip-off. Luckily, the Mary Jane style has staying power, and I could wear shiny black shoes that buckled my long, skinny feet in. Tap shoes always have buckles, and I went through a phase where I went everywhere in my black tap shoes.

Recently, however, straps that buckle have proven to be a menace. Throughout the day my feet seem to be built a bit like Ballpark Franks - plumping up to three times their normal size. This growth has systematically diminished my shoe selection (with Jack's help, of course). At home, I'm pretty good about propping them up, and I spend much of my teaching time seated at the podium now. But in NYC, there was so much to see, so much to do! We walked and walked, traversing nearly every neighborhood on the island of Manhattan. When we got back to the hotel room each night, my mom, Pam, and Amanda were kind enough to fill zip lock bags with ice and pile up a mountain of feather pillows so that we could coax my feet into normal, human shape - you know, where there are ankle bones visible and your toes don't have dimples. Pretty much I looked (and felt at times) like the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man clomping my way down the streets of NY. It was worth it, though! Definitely worth it. :) Stay tuned for more stories from the Big Apple...

The Big Fish

Saturday, the Men's Ministry at our church decided to do a deep sea fishing trip. 40 of us adventured out into the open sea with nothing to guide us except a highly sophisticated GPS system, perfect weather, and an expert crew of fish gurus. After my early morning funk had worn off and the 5th cup of coffee settled nicely into my veins, I began to take in the fresh ocean breeze and that great primordial sense that I had become the hunter. I, along with my fraternity would conquer these giant Marlins that I had read about in Hemingway.

And then I stepped onto the boat. Minutes later, I was curled into a fetal position on the deck of that "vessel from Hell" as I attempted to keep the 5 cups of coffee from returning to the fresh ocean air. I prayed hard, asking God to calm the rough waters (the deck hand later told me that the water was the calmest it has been in weeks). After spending some time hanging limply over the side of the boat I crawled down into the hull to see if I might be able to forget the agony with some sleep. And so I slept.

Soon, above me, I could hear the shouts of excitement from those who had caught the "big one". Again and again fish were being caught without me. So I dragged myself up to the deck, grabbed my rod (with quite the panache I might say) and hefted my bait over the side to attempt to regain my manly hunter self. Over and over, my attempts were for not as one particular family who shall remain nameless (Schramms) kept bringing in enormous fish from the sea.

And then, as I had almost given up, I noticed that half my line had been taken out to sea. I got so excited I shouted out "I got one... [under breath - "Thank you, Jesus"] ... I got one." I looked around to make sure everyone knew that I got one. My attention was pulled back to the fish when one of the deck hands grabbed me and said, "Well you gotta reel it in first." Oh!

So I cranked and cranked, pulling Moby in. He walked me around the entirety of the boat, working me, faking me out, draining my resources. I fought as no man before me had. I was fighting for my manhood. I was fighting for men everywhere.

Finally, I began to pull him closer, reeling him out of the water. Oh, what a beauty - must be the biggest fish yet. The deck hand grabbed him and then handed me my prize. I held it aloft with such prize, showing it to all around me. I even found myself asking for someone to take my picture.

The deck hand asked me, "Do you want to keep him, he's not very big." In my head I'm thinking, "Is this guy daft? This thing is huge." But, I acted very cooly and responded, "Yeah, I'm sure I could do something with it." I was so proud. Of course, in this whole process I had missed 4 other catches by others, whose fish were twice the size of mine. Heck, I could have caught a minnow and I would have been in Heaven.

Only my dramatic self could have turned this into an existential battle. In a day, I gained, lost, and gained again my manhood (whatever that is). By the way, I'm now changing my name to Ahab.

A Name

As I read the Old Testament I am always astounded by how important naming a child was to a parent and a community. And they made sure that name fit and pigeon-holed them for life. Names like "Caused much pain" or "Sadness overflowing" in the Hebrew. These parents seemed to place their hopes, dreams, and a bit of vindication in their childrens' names.

Now Marilee and I are stuck with the demanding task of choosing a name for our little boy, soon to arrive. Both of us love literature so we have tried anything of from Keats to Owen to Lewis. We love theology so Calvin, William, and Wesley have tempted our minds. From the Bible, Aaron and Jude. But do we want to pigeon-hole our child to follow our love of these things (well he better love the Bible!) Pretty much any of these names is going to get him at least a couple of black-eyes on the playground. Perhaps a John or a James would suit better. Maybe we should name him after the dog, Jack (Jack, jr. does sound good). With names like these he could fit in, maybe even navigate life under the radar.

Nah! Marilee and I are self-proclaimed geeks and are infinitely proud of that. I desire a child who is independent, strong, and ok with being different. Lets face it, just by being a Christian he will have plenty of that. I want a son who desires goodness over happiness, who chooses what is right over what is easy. If anyone has found a name that reflects all that and doesn't require clicks to pronounce it let me know. But lets face it, like all children, his name really should be "embarrased by his parents" (in the Hebrew, of course).

Part of a Team

Ever since I found out I was pregnant, I have found this strange affinity for other pregnant women. So far, I've held in check the impulse to accost them in the street, at the mall, or in the grocery store just to say "I'm pregnant, too!" So far, I just pause in what I'm doing and think good thoughts their way. Little prayers for their safety and wellness. It's this odd feeling that we're somehow on the same team. Some sisterhood that I'd never realized existed before. It's not a nasty, exclusive club that looks down on other women -- most of my friends do not have children and won't for some time, and I feel very comfortable talking about how I'm doing or how I'm feeling with them. It's just this feeling that I could accost them in public places and they would know and understand how I'm feeling at that very moment.

Not that every pregnant woman goes through the same thing -- I feel very fortunate to have slipped through the first trimester without any morning sickness. I talk to other women who have been pregnant, and they often have terrible stories of pulling over the car just to vomit. At moments like those, Jesse and I look at one another with wonder and confusion -- I mean, I have had digestive issues my WHOLE life -- how is it possible that I've made it through pregnancy so far with nary a belly problem?

Not only that -- I've somehow left my lactose intollerance in the dust -- as if God thought "Hey, not only am I going to give you a kid, I'm going to give you nine months to eat ice cream, pizza, ranch dressing, and peanut M&M's, just as a bonus." And you'd better believe that I am living as though this reprieve will end, though some tell me that I may be fine with dairy from here on out. I figure, it's a bit like having someone tell you that you have only nine months to live -- if they're wrong, and you have more time, great, but if they're right, you'd better make the most of the time you have. And be grateful. So I do, because I am.

Not Yet Amish

Many who know me (Jesse) know that I am fond of exaggerations and the frequent use of hyperbole when telling stories. This is not one of those cases. As I have been consistently burned by the countless computers, PDA's, cell phones, and overall technology in my life, I am now tempted to become Amish (or at least some variety of sect that will still allow me to watch The Office every Thursday night - not much to ask considering the beard I plan to grow). I feel that the life would at least provide me with some peace from the war that the Techno-Kingdom has launched against me. Yet, here I am again tapping into another area of technology - "the blog". Eeesh!

My primary purpose for starting this blog is to solve our lack of communication with friends and family, especially as our baby arrives. I believe this blog will also serve to fulfill my Southern California need to display all our drama for the world to see. So here goes.