Jack Michael Noggle

Jack Michael Noggle was born at 2:34 a.m. on Saturday, May 10, 2008. Yet another reason I probably won't be resuming blogging (though if I'm up everyday at this hour, maybe I will) anytime soon.

hln

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Has It Been That Long?

August 2007? Yikes. Probably not coming back anytime soon, though.

Brian and I are expecting boy #2 in early May. That, boy #1, church, and work keep me pretty busy. I tend to just share my opinions about the obnoxious things I find in the news and in life around the dinner table.

Boy #1 gives great responses such as "ble ble BLEH happy ble ble ball." It's affirming.

Hope all's well.

hln

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Raining Like The Dog

So, today the husband, the boy, and I ran some errands. The weather was thundery and rain flirtatious, and he parked quite a distance from the Target - really quite a ways out in the parking lot in front of the next store over. I made some silly comment about the distance and the imminent rain, and that was that.

After shopping and paying for purchases, we prepared to step outside into the possible weather. And that's when Brian said it. He said, "I bet it's going to rain like the dog."

THE dog. Not cats and dogs. Not puppies. THE dog. I thought that was pretty amusing, ominous sky and all. Just a spitting of raindrops about 30 seconds after the comment as we stepped into the crosswalk in front of the store. But then the dog decided to bare its teeth.

SNARL. Downpour. Soaked baby. Soaked laughing baby. Soaked parents. LONG, long walk. Big raining dog. Who knew?

So, the upshot of this is, I guess, that if your spouse warns you of impending dog rain, especially if it's THE dog, please listen and insist on closer parking. Soaking wet family is worth a few laughs and a blog post, but, ultimately, a dry family in a dry vehicle is the better alternative.

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Come On Down

The baby eats at 11. The Price is Right comes on CBS at 11, so I've been tuning in for a few weeks here for the first half or so. It's the same as I remember it from my childhood, and that gives me a nice feeling - all that 70s glitz, and the only difference in Bob Barker is that he's got white hair and has a beating of Happy Gilmore under his belt.

So I read yesterday that he's retiring. That he's 83 years old (wow). That's just crazy - working until you're 83. On the other hand, can you name any other shows that have barely changed since the early 1970s? It was a nice feeling, briefly, watching the PiR on the big screen and knowing that the biggest change was the prices. The prize women are probably thinner, too. Have to look that up.

hln

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Life's Focus

Been busy - Brian's blogging has to cover the household. But we took pictures tonight, and I thought I'd share. James/Jimmy at 6 weeks.


hln

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Introducing...

James Raymond Noggle, the Swaddled.

BIG boy.

hln

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Hip to be Pregnant?

This probably won't surprise you, but I'm not pregnant because "it's hip."

Who ARE these women? And why do they care?

"It's hip now to be pregnant," says Jill Siefert, a fashion stylist in San Francisco who recently added pregnancy styling to her business. "Everybody's doing it."

Of course, everybody's always done it. It's just that we're hearing about it so much more now -- especially RIGHT now. Take the latest cover of People (perhaps they should rename it Parents). Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, new parents of Suri, are flanked by Gwyneth Paltrow and newborn Moses, and Donald and Melania Trump with newborn Barron. Inside, Liv Tyler and Jon Stewart cavort with their respective offspring, Matt Damon awaits his, Brooke Shields talks about hers.

And this is only April. The coming months promise the birth of the Brad Pitt-Angelina Jolie baby, still in utero but already presumed unprecedentedly gorgeous. "Not since Jesus has a baby been so eagerly anticipated," New York magazine wrote.

The fascination seems to stem from our generation's desire to see celebrities as people just like us -- almost part of the family, says University of Mississippi magazine analyst Samir Husni: "All of a sudden the whole country has become an aunt and uncle to these babies."

Disgusting! Actually, I think the media are the only ones fascinated. My friendly circles certainly aren't talking about celebrity babies. Not a one's been mentioned in our infant care class, and, I promise, being pregnant has not made my body more fascinating to the point I want to be photographed in this state, clothed or unclothed. I'm just excited random people are clear it's a baby and not food reserves.

My pregnant body has a purpose. But believe you me, as soon as it's not pregnant, it's going to be pushing a jogging stroller and lifting a lot of weights. It's going to become reacquainted with a bike seat (as soon as is humanly possible), and it's going to be unpregnant looking as much as a 33 year-old new mom can be. My only boast is that my wedding ring still fits.

hln

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How to Move Five Cats

There comes a time in every person's life when he or she must change residences. This is always a simpler proposition when one has no pets. Probably simpler when one has no children (and no children on the way). But what fun would that be?

Brian and I have five, count them, five cats. This squeaks by at the St. Louis County limit of legal (though we had to shun one favored municipality, Kirkwood, when looking for a new home; it has a "nuisance law" stating a household can contain only three cats. Pbhllllt!).

At the end of Saturday when our belongings had been transported from house A to house B (about 20 miles apart), Brian and I set off across the prairie (er, Interstate) to retrieve the herd.

We've talked about them in bits and pieces. There's John Galt, the oldest (yes, do follow the link), Tristan, Dominique the Conqueror (Niqi for short - refused to be photographed), Ajax (Ajax Rex according to Brian), and Aurora (Aurora McNaughty).

If you followed the link on Galt, you noted that he has a penchant for losing lots of bodily fluids and solids when put in a car. My vet gave me some kitty drugs in conservative half-pill doses, so we pill gunned Galt and Ajax (who is also fairly high strung) and set off on trip #1 with Dominique, Aurora, and Tristan in my car.

This was uneventful except for the part of herding the cats. Cats aren't stupid. They see carriers; they run. Earlier in the day we had penned them in one room - also not an easy task. But, once corralled and defeated, they were left with only their pathetic "mournful meow chorus," which they performed all the way to the new house. In key. Yes, that's the derivation of the word "caterwauling."

When we returned for trip 2, the medicine had sedated the tabbies indeed. Galt, who weighs more seemed a bit tired. Ajax was totally zonked - "aced" as the vet called it, after the drug. Trip 2 was completely uneventful due to the meds. Not even a chorus, really, for those two; maybe a Bob Dylan song.

All in all, not so bad. Niqi hid under the bed for a couple of days, but everyone else was curious and exploring their new space.

So, the answer of how to move five cats? I must say that it's drugs.

hln

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Alive and Kicking (and being Kicked)

Sorry about lack of posting. Currently no Internet access except at work, though that should be remedied in a few days (that's also why Brian isn't posting).

Kid's coming along - likes to kick me when I'm sitting or resting. I think this is a good sign. I look like I swallowed a watermelon whole; again, probably normal.

I'll decide in the coming month or so whether to actually post or abandon the weblog. Blank screen - bad.

hln

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Baby Update

I'm finally out of morning sickness (which was never really all that bad - just felt OFF, and it wasn't really just the morning) and in that "is she fat or she pregnant stage." I'm holding out another week for maternity clothes and getting by with rubber bands and loose shirts.

On Wednesday we will learn the baby's gender, and that's very, very exciting. I'm still waiting anxiously to be kicked (in any other context that's masochistic, yes).

Ironically, business travel has picked up, and I've had two trips in the last two months with the possibility of more to come. I'm really missing my former level of physical fitness (a distant memory) when it comes to heavy luggage, though I'm thoroughly amused by people who tell me I shouldn't lift anything.

I've put out a "no pink" alert to my mother who's very eager to shop for baby clothes. Red, purple, yellow, even blue for girls. But please don't pink my kid. I should be safe from this if we've got a boy.

I'll post gender (but I need to let Brian know first, so it may not be until Thurs).

hln

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And a Bit of News

I'm still alive and well. Though not always feeling 100% of late, but that's ok. There's a little Noggle due to arrive on June 30, 2006.

hln

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Adventure at the Hilton

Perhaps you've seen this story. Or perhaps you've seen this picture (Brian's site).

Brian and I spent the weekend in New York. As you might have guessed, we experienced a bit more excitement than planned yesterday when our hotel caught fire.

A fire in an electrical shaft at the Hilton New York hotel yesterday afternoon forced the evacuation of the 45-story Midtown building, sent 33 people to the hospital with smoke inhalation and shut down traffic on Avenue of Americas between West 51st and 54th Streets for more than three hours, the Fire Department said. No one was seriously injured.

The fire started about 4 p.m. as welders were performing maintenance, according to firefighters on the scene. It was limited to a shaft running the length of the building.

The smoke spread rapidly through the 2,017-room hotel through the ventilation system.

Hotel guests from the 8th to the 33rd floors said that the hallways were thick with smoke.

We were on the 29th floor taking a break from a visit to Central Park and a bit of shopping. We heard a noise in the hallway that sounded like kids playing. Then we heard a sound that MIGHT have been a distant fire alarm. Brian then remarked, "are the stairs right next to us?" And then the first fire engine pulled up. And, you guessed it, right at that time, we smelled smoke. Out the door we went.

29 floors down is a piece of cake if you don't have people in front of you. But some of the these people were a bit freaked out, and the Hilton employee directing traffic, as it were, had a nice firm voice that reminded the folks to keep moving (mush, mush). Brian and I added our encouragement. It had the smell of an electrical fire, and some floors were worse than others. Had to cover the nose and mouth on a few. We counted 9 or so fire engines outside the building when we emerged, and traffic was shut down for quite some time.

So we wandered around New York for a while until we were hungry, and we stopped at a restaurant and had a good meal and shared a bottle of wine. When we returned, the hotel was letting guests back in, but the elevators were severely backed up. Brian and I looked at each other, and I said, "stairs?" And he said, "stairs."

And so there were stairs, 29 flights. Which is way too fun on half a bottle of good wine and a very full belly. Thank goodness for physical fitness. When we arrived back at the hotel room, it was not fully ventilated - smell was still pretty acrid. The phones were dead, and we decided to pack up and find alternate lodging. Yes, you guessed it, 29 flights down with full luggage, which is much more of an exercise in resistance training - I have some sore shoulders today (as does Brian, I believe) - I had fully worked upper body the day before.

We ended up at the Times Square Hilton - a bit of gentle but firm "we're not staying here" did the trick on that one. Previous to this little adventure we'd had a nice trip, but I'm afraid this experience is a bit hard to trump as far as blog stories go.

hln

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MS 150, Year 3

Well, it's that time of year again. And I think I'm ready.

Year One: Ride lost to woman moping at home about her swollen foot.
Year Two: Hills! Tired Heather.
Year Three: ?

I leave tomorrow morning after loading up the car with everything I need to take to Columbia, MO (don't forget the bike). Columbia's about 120 miles away, and it's where I lived before meeting Brian. So in a sense I'm kinda going home. One of many homes.

I'm ready, if Monday's 65 miles is any indication. Sunday's the wild card. I haven't done all that many back-to-back rides this year, but I've done a whole lot more weekday riding. My cardio conditioning is pretty strong. My legs are probably weaker than they've ever been since I've been riding.

The cause of the long, long bike ride is Multiple Sclerosis, a debilitating disease with varying symptoms depending on severity. At the most positive, it's an expensive disease. If it's caught early, it can be treated with a lifelong drug regimen.

So, if posting's light for the next few days, it's because I'm collapsing after the ride. Wish me luck.

hln

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Note to Self

When preparing for a 5 a.m. long bike ride, check the weather BEFORE you do anything else...like eat breakfast. If it's supposed to rain all day, go back to bed Too late. (I can't stand to go to bed on a full stomach). So now it's wait until Brian gets up to ride the trainer (it's loud).

hln

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But No One Defined the Boundaries of Porn...

I was driving to a dental appointment yesterday, so I was in my car during the 4:00 p.m. hour with the radio tuned to KMOX - the Paul Harris show.

Paul was conversing with a woman named Naomi Seligman from the Committee for Responsibility and Ethics about senators and congressfolk who accept money from instutitions whom the CfRE deem as distributors of porn - cable companies and hotel chains namely. The crux of the attack was that these aforementioned senators and congressfolk are hypocrites for their stances on Family Values when they accept such dirty money. Paul's job is to keep us interested, so it's a pretty good topic. Naomi's aim was to incite us to indignant mood. Senator Bond - who called in after being named - was clearly flustered - neither party's on-air argument skills left me feeling inspired. A whole lot of sputtering "he" and "she" instead of proper debate of "Senator Bond" or "Ms. Seligman." It sounded like a playground namecalling festival.

I turned the radio off when nearing the dental office, right in the middle of a whining Naomi mini-screed, but I'd like to address the title of this post. Senator Bond didn't, and I think that he should have.

What is porn? And who decides? Certainly some cable companies offer porn channels, and some hotel chains offer same. Naomi mentioned "Skinemax" in reference to the cable channel Cinemax. Do we dis Borders, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon for their sales of sexually-related books? Newly bankrupt Penthouse and Larry Flynt were mentioned as non-questioned porn purveyors, but Seligman linked in General Motors because of its ownership of/affiliation with (I didn't catch which) with DirectTV. A stretch, at best.

Back to hypocrisy - cracking down on things that subvert family values (as porn was so defined by the senators and congressfolk) but still accepting money from these OBVIOUS (too bad there's not a sarcasm tag) porn purveyors. Somehow, it really falls flat without the acceptance of Seligman's definition of porn. She stated that Senator Bond and those grouped with him in this report should have taken extra steps so as not to accept monies from those affilitated with "porn" - including GM, Mariott, and several cable companies.

I just don't buy it. Someone working for the Committee for Responsibility and Ethics may be cheating on his or her spouse. Does that invalidate the whole Committee and its aims and goals? Of course not. As Senator Bond did point out, the money to his campaign was delivered via individuals and PACs, not the companies. Right back to it - GM and porn? Nope.

And, oh, in case you're still reading and curious - Ms. Seligman's bio?

Naomi Seligman, Deputy Director Naomi Seligman serves as CREW's Deputy Director and Communications Director. Ms. Seligman has worked extensively as a communications professional developing and managing media strategies for campaigns, elected officials, and not-for-profit organizations. Most recently, Seligman was the communications director for Media Matters, a web-based, not-for-profit progressive research and information center dedicated to comprehensively monitoring, analyzing, and correcting conservative misinformation in the U.S. media. Prior to that, she served as the communications director for the Violence Policy Center, a gun control organization. She also has served as a press secretary in both the Senate and the House of Representatives and has functioned as director of outreach on the Small Business Committee.

Uh huh.

hln

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A Very, Very Good Day

Tomorrow's likely not going to be a good day. But today - well, I'm sure enjoying today.

1) St. Louis County has put forth this. Chili's Chicken Crispers might someday not be a thing of the past. I'd better take up triathalons. Eww.

2) AIRWOLF IS COMING TO DVD! I think I let out a "Whoppeee" at work today. I have been waiting for this for forever.

3) Tristan's ear is healing!

I could go on and on. But I should probably get some work done

hln

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iPod Shuffle

I am patiently awaiting my ordered iPod Shuffle. Anybody have one yet? I'm counting the days until it ships. Should be within the next week or two.

hln

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Back, I Hope

Back, really. These past few weeks have been busy at work, and I expect more of the same, so I've been putting the Christmas stuff in high gear. We're done shopping except for 2 presents. I have 3/4 of my cookies made. And it's December 12th! I'm so proud.

But, yes, some things in my personal life have suffered. My poor blog has been vacant for something like two weeks. It's not as though I'm short of topics - I mean, what, with all of the gaudy combinations of Christmas lights/blow-up snowmen. That's at least a four-paragraph rant, no?

Truth is, with everything ALMOST ready for Christmas, I'm excited like a little kid. This is the first year in a long time that I've been kidlike. Probably also has to do with the fact that I'm in a community chorus, and last week we had our Christmas concert. There's nothing like singing to get you in the Christmas mood.

There's also this lovely Advent calendar that my mother made for me a couple of years ago. It's modeled off of one very similiar that we used to count down the days to Christmas when I was a kid. She personalized the ornaments (things like the trumpet and the ice skate). We don't have a tree because of the myriad cats, but we still manage a festive home.



To leave this post, Aurora wishes you a Merry Christmas (she signed the cookie with a paw). No, this one wasn't eaten or given.



hln

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Dream a Little Dream

Not feeling too well upon awakening at 5:15 a.m. yesterday (headache), I went back to bed and slept until nearly 8. And here's what happened in my subconscious.

My family and I were gathered in Springfield, MO at someone's house, but not my mother's. It was a gift-giving occasion, probably Christmas. My mother gave me a photo book with pictures of me growing up - pictures I'd never seen before. I decided to walk home (to my mother's house) from the event. Not sure why.

The sky was ominous on the way. Out of nowhere, many - somewhere from 18 to 30 - tornadoes appeared on the horizon. Fearful, I took cover in a ditch.

As the tornadoes approached, it was quickly apparent that they were NOT tornadoes. They were lime green helicopters, and they were attacking. Suddenly, I was not alone but in a crowd of people and we were being taken prisoner by our attackers - the military from Great Britain.

The British soldiers wore lime green t-shirts and jean shorts. I'm not sure how I knew they were British.

Somehow I must've escaped because the dream shifted. I was then in a room with James Bond and a blond woman (whom I did not recognize). I was dating James Bond, you see (the Pierce Brosnan iteration). And I knew and had experienced the great British invasion. Someone must've discovered the location of Mr. Bond and company, because we were suddenly attacked by rushing snipers (why snipers would rush...I dunno. I must be playing too much Unreal Tournament). Fortunately, we were behind bars (didn't notice that before) and somehow able to hide. No one was injured in the sniper attack.

A member of the attacking party tried to firebomb us, but we were all able to quickly get behind the blast door (where did that come from?) and huddle around a large ice-cube driven device. Safe again.

The next attack was with a long device that looked like pruning shears, but they fit through the bars, and the user nearly caught me by the nose (I believe that was the inteded use for the implement). Again all of us were safe.

The next attack was the final straw for my relationship with Mr. Bond, though. The attackers captured my cat Ajax and were going to kill him. It was there that I lost it and began screaming. I somehow left - hopefully with the cat.

Doesn't make much sense, does it? But I guess the moral of the story is: don't mess with my cats.

hln

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Born in a Small Town

I've been away awhile...in a town where the only hotel didn't have Internet access, so sorry for the blank page.

The town was about the size of Sandusky, MI, which is where I spent years 7 to 11 1/2. It was a place where you could ride your bike to the library (unsupervised...I often did) and to piano lessons. In 3rd or 4th grade, I was old enough (and safe enough) to be left alone a couple of hours after school with a list of chores and a longer list of rules.

And this town had the small-town friendly thing going on, too. I've been in urban or demi-urban areas long enough that I'd forgotten what that was. EVERYONE said hello. People (okay, more men) looked you over curiously because you were...new. But they were friendly - oh were they friendly.

I learned about strangers' cats (and talked about my own) and chatted it up with a couple of airport employees about various things (including the Packers; I was in Wisconsin, after all).

But I'm home 2 days now and back to my citywary self. You don't acknowledge others and make eye contact - you just do your thing and get it done. Advantages to both.

hln

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