mandarine

We left in a hurry in the middle of the night, leaving boy #1 to his auntie. Boy #2 was born this morning at 5 UTC, three weeks ahead of estimated schedule. That was fortunate, because he was already a fat little pink Yoda (3.5 kg / 7.7 lbs). We are very happy of having chosen this (one-hour-drive away) smalltown hospital, as it was renowned for its high ‘natural’ birth rate (and breastfeeding-friendly practices). My beautiful wife made it without any sort of chemicals, a thing she had dreamed of, but had never imagined she was actually capable of.

All congratulations to be forwarded to Mrs Mandarine and the little pink one, room #3. Sorry I was late with the pictures…

To the day.

As with whiskey, balsamic vinegar or Bordeaux, 12 years is probably how long it takes to reveal the full palette of flavours and the heart of the aroma (especially considering we were only 22 on October 5th, 1996).

Although on the economic front, ’slowdown’ sounds inappropriately shy to describe what is soon becoming a great depression, it is the right word on the blogging front. I have long hesitated to write about it here, probably because I still have not made up my mind about how personal I want this blog to be. But I figure I owe that much to all my blogging friends who seldom fail to mention a word or two about what is happening in their lives, especially when it keeps them away from the keyboard.

It’s not blog burnout, it’s not boredom or weariness. I simply have been busy.

• Busy at work because I have been working on two tenders, three patents, and a spacecraft dynamics course for internal training which is turning into a testament



• Busy in the garden and the kitchen because you may have a no-work garden for pretty much of the growing season, the tomatoes still won’t pick themselves (you can read about the garden there)



• Busy at home because I am stepping in to replace my terminally pregnant wife with her computer home help business (logo by yours truly below) in my spare time and days off



• Busy in the house because we still have to build a bedroom for kid #1 so that he can leave his bedroom staircase landing to kid #2 when kid #2 leaves our bedroom (that would be before next summer)
• And busy mentally because there maybe new opportunities job-wise (but shhush..)

This slowdown will probably last another fortnight, but after the birth I will be on leave for at least a month, leaving enough time to resume the weekly posting rhythm.

An announcement

#2 will celebrate its zeroeth birthday sometime around end October.

This is an opportunity to recycle an old post that probably not everybody has read. If you have, you are welcome to read it again.

Introduction

A couple of years ago, I heard a heated argument between my brother-in-law and his cousin. The young mother of three had hinted something about my in-law still being single at age 35+ and having no active plans to found a ‘real family’. The accused righteously retorted that the cultural model of the normal family with kids is slowly drowning our planet in overpopulation, and that his choice was the reasonable one. He was this close to saying something like ‘as far as sustainable development is concerned, having kids amounts to owning a SUV’.

[more]

This is the fourth installment of the till death do us part series, to mark my ten years of marriage (only three weeks before the eleventh anniversary).

There is no autopilot

When one drives a car, when one pilots an airplane, when one rides a bike, one finds that even on the straightest road, in the stillest air, or on the smoothest track, one still has to make constant tiny adjustments. If one stops adjusting for a couple of seconds, one has an emergency situation. And if one misses this last opportunity to alter course, one crashes.

I am under the impression that lots of couples believe that their relationship is on autopilot. [more]

This is a story about misery, prejudice, injustice, humiliation and grudge. One I had completely forgotten about until my brother told it as a family joke at a family gathering some years ago. It is a symbol for all the psychological tortures that younger children endure from their elder sisters or brothers.

My brother was probably five years old. [more]