"Peep!"

I never cease to be amazed by our endless capacity for acclimatization. It seems that no matter how radically our situations may change, how sudden or unexpected the transformation(s) may be, we somehow learn to cope. To wit: I thought I knew from sleep-deprived. Now I have a seven-and-three-quarter-month-old reality check schooling me in what sleep deprivation really means. And yet, somehow I have learned to cope. Last night I fell asleep around 1:30 and woke up around 4:30 to start my day -- which at 21:20 is neither finished nor waning -- and that doesn't constitute a bad night.

That's right: three hours of sleep doesn't rate as "bad." It may not be good, but at least they were consecutive and blissfully devoid of consciousness. I take what I can get and thank fortune for the favour.

* * *

I love being a dad. It's awesome like Spaceman Spiff and a fresh roll of Sweet Tarts and the Blade Runner's opening fly-by and

The Operative: Do you know what your sin is?
Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: Aw hell, I'm a fan of all seven... but right now, I'm gonna have to go with Wrath.

and falling in love and feeling the gear shift because you willed it and rippling the one block down from Amoeba Records to Golden Gate Park and hammocks in June and dawn in January and panting lakes and I'm still not used to how much I love being a dad.