Post the first

Been meaning to start this thing since Jacob was born. He's only nine months old now, so this is actually ahead of my usual procrastination-laden speed. But that's not why you called. Let's commence blogging.

First, an explanation. While, as the title of the blog would indicate, a lot of this will revolve around the raising of my son, Jacob, it's not a baby blog. It's more of a general, life-observing, hopefully interesting blog. Think maybe Charles Kuralt, only not as alcoholic-y and definitely without a second wife.

To catch you up to speed, I'm a new dad who's also an old dad. Which is to say, my aforementioned son is indeed just nine months old, but I passed that mark 44 years and three months ago. I was born the day John F. Kennedy was shot, meaning that two tragic events took place that day. (Actually, three. C.S. Lewis died, too. Aldous Huxley, too, but I don't consider that a tragedy, since I've never spent hours poring over anything Huxley wrote, while Clive Staples has occupied and edified me for years.) Jacob is my first (and unless the urologist had unsteady hands, my only) child. I write for a living, so I figured I'd go ahead and start a blog about my life as a work-from-home, new/old dad.

Here's the toddler. He's the most handsome child ever. I have papers.

My wife, aka The Lovely Missus, helps a little with his raising, as does Grandma Dunn, who lives with us.

He's had a run of ear infections, so we had tubes put in his ears a few weeks ago. If you've ever seen them, "tubes" is a bit of a stretch, since they're minuscule little things, like grommets for a lilliputian tarp. (In the spirit of Dave Barry, I have to point out that "Lilliputian Tarp" would be a good name for a rock band.)

On the way home from the tube inspection, we got some good news of a more rodential nature. A few years ago, we started noticing that a (or some; it's not like they're easy to differentiate) groundhog/s was/were living near the road to our house. Groundhogs, at least in my experience, aren't that common in Alabama, and I loves me some animals, so I was tickled to see the little varmint. While The Lovely Missus was great with child, I resolved to snap some pictures of the 'hog so that my son could peruse them when he was older. I jump in my car, head to Groundhog Hollow, and just as I top the hill, I see a dark mass in the road. Yep, it was a deceased groundhog. All I could do was go back home, grab my shovel, then bury his still-warm body. It's not exaggeration to say that my heart sank. Jacob wouldn't get to see him now, and he wouldn't be brightening up our commutes, either.

Then, last fall, I spied the deceased groundhog's descendant, or maybe a cousin or friend of the family. Whatever he was, he was in the same spot where the dear departed used to roam. You'd have thought I'd seen Bigfoot, so fast did I grab my phone to call The Lovely Missus. Groundhog Hollow had been saved! Quick, get the Pixar people on the phone. I have an idea for a killer story.

But that was the last sighting of any 'hogs. Until today. Jacob was grumbling so he didn't notice, but the 'hog was there on the side of the road, as clear a harbinger of spring as any drab old robin. I'm seriously tempted to put up a "Slow! Groundhog Crossing" sign now.

So there's my initial post on Raising Jacobzona. Welcome. Stop by any time.