Wha'happen?

As anyone who has been following this here blog has undoubtedly surmised by now, I'm putting Beetsolonely on ice.

When I started doing this back in 2005, I was a single man with plenty of spare time. As such, I was free to scour the web for ephemeral tidbits of intrigue or rant at length about politics, religion, smart growth or problems with the cable company. It was intrinsically rewarding and I enjoyed doing it.

Now I'm married and father to a 1-year-old. My job is more challenging and more complex - if not financially rewarding - than it used to be. A few freelance writing gigs have popped back up. And somehow, I'm playing in two bands. One thing I'm most definitely not is lonely.

All of this is to say I just don't have time to give this blog the time and energy it needs to thrive even at the middling levels of a year or two ago. Even if I did have time, I don't think I could actually grow a blog of this nature into something that would justify the time investment. I think we've gone about as far as we're going here.

This isn't to say I won't blog again at some point. I like the idea of doing some sort of group blog that has more of a focus than this one, but this is basically it for Beetsolonely. All of the old stuff will continue to live here for as long as Blogger or its future incarnation lets it.

Thanks to everyone who ever read one of my posts and extra special thanks to the regular readers and to anyone who ever left a comment - even the trolls. It's been a fun ride.

So...um....I guess this is goodbye. No, I'm not crying - it's just allergies.

-30-

Happy Birthday, Alex!

A year ago at this time, Kate and I were slowly walking up and down our street in the chilly drizzle as contractions were becoming more and more frequent. The baby boy we'd nicknamed "Nubbin" wouldn't emerge until close to midnight, but he did manage to be born on February 19th, which puts him one day closer to 21.

Alex is a strapping 1-year-old today. The baby features are slowly but surely giving way to those of a little boy. Even so, he'll always be our baby.

I Got the Six

Today marks the sixth anniversary of Beetsolonely's mildly auspicious launch. Although the angel investors have long since fled, we're still here, putting it all together with chewing gum, string and stubborn conviction.

My Elvis Year

As I enter my 42nd year on the planet today, I’ve thought a lot about the day in August of 1977 when I walked to the Circle K down the street from my grandparents’ house in Victoria, Tex. and scanned a slew of “Elvis Presley Dead at 42” headlines while waiting to pay for a grape-flavored Slush Puppy.

I realized Presley’s death was undeniably tragic, but I also remember thinking, “Well, 42 is pretty old.”

And I guess it was if you were an 8-year-old kid whose parents were still in their early thirties and not cocked up on pills.

42 doesn’t seem so old anymore, though.

I’m vaguely aware of being well beyond the vaunted 18-34 demographic, but I never felt like I was at the zeitgeist to begin with. One part of getting older that I’ve always sort of looked forward to is the prospect of “aging into” the curmudgeonly nostalgia that was part of my personality even as a child.

Becoming a father has definitely made me feel older, but that’s more a function of parenthood than age. I still don’t feel the sociocultural gravitas I thought I’d feel at 42. I have a family and an accidental career in civil service, but I haven’t put away childish things and have no intention of doing it voluntarily.

I’m glad that spending most of my days garbed in jeans and a T-shirt just like my infant son makes me a thorn in the side of sphincter-lipped scolds like George Will. Let them choke on their dull, grey notions of maturity and propriety – plum-dumb commode humor has sustained me through far too much to give up on it now.

The Big 6-M

Alex hit the 6-month mark today. He celebrated this morning by tipping the pediatric scales at 20 pounds, 6 ounces. That was followed by a series of shots, which quelled the celebration somewhat.

The boy has started supplementing his heroic breastmilk intake with mushed-up solid foods such as brown rice cereal, bananas and avocados. I don't think he dug the latter too much, but he hasn't quite figured out how to refuse the spoon yet. I'm sure that will come soon enough.

As a dad, the best thing about this age is that he's starting to reciprocate my goofing with him by making funny noises and wet raspberries you'd swear were the work of an 18-month-old. Sometimes he'll even get right up in my face and go, "AAAGGH!" with a wide, two-toothed smile. Even when I'm dead-tired at 6 a.m., you just can't beat that.

One Month Old

Yes, we're celebrating our child's one-month birthday. I bought Alex a little treat from Hey Cupcake! this afternoon, but he's going to have to get it via breastmilk. After what his mom went through bringing him into the world, it's only fair for her to get dibbs on his birthday treats for awhile.

It's hard to believe it's already been a month. Life is very different than before he made the scene, but now I can't imagine life without him. Every time I look into those big blue eyes of his, I fall deeper in love.

Alexander Harrington Beets

Alexander Harrington Beets was born Friday, Feb. 19 at 11:34pm. He weighed 8 pounds, 3 ounces at birth and Kate labored for about 17 hours to bring him into the world. Mother and son were released from the hospital yesterday. My dad took our first family photo (above) shortly before they were sprung.

Now we're all back home and learning to live as a three-piece. Everything looks just like it did when Kate and I left for the hospital, but we might as well be on another planet for how much everything has changed. It still hasn't completely sunk in that this beautiful, blond-headed boy who just turned 72 hours old a few minutes ago is really ours.

Before he was born, I had no way of knowing if the bond all my parent friends kept telling me about would happen. But there I was, gently rocking him in the hospital nursery at 2am while the radio played "Dance With Me" by Orleans, knowing there was no place else I'd rather be than right there at that moment.

Count Five

Today is Beetsolonely’s 5-year anniversary. To celebrate, I’ve decided to revert to all-caps headlines. That’s all the rebranding I’m up for right now.

Occasionally I wonder if this here blog needs more focus. Perhaps it would make sense to define a niche and work to fill it. Maybe I’ll do that one day, but a large part of why I enjoy blogging is being able to write about whatever happens to pop into my head.

So unless I hear the elusive “true calling” that would enable me to monetize a singular bloggerly pursuit I’m passionate about, the rambling mélange of musings on life in Austin, obscure pop culture curiosities, impending parenthood and where to find a good deal on potatoes will continue unabated.

25 years ago tonight

My 16th birthday was one for the ages. As Ronald Reagan was crushing Walter Mondale in the ’84 presidential election, a group of my friends threw me a surprise party at the long-since-shuttered Pancho’s Mexican Buffet on Bissonnet near the Bellaire Triangle. We commandeered an entire dining room, which saved non-celebrants the pain of watching me show off tasteful gifts like porn magazines and condoms that were doomed to expire long before I had any legitimate use for them.

In the midst of this flauta-fueled festival of pubescent ribaldry, Dana Gritzbaugh and her mom (!) presented me with the bodacious ta-ta cake you see above. I’d been admiring the R-rated display case at Three Brothers Bakery for several years, but my parents were noticeably unenthusiastic about the prospect of buying their son an adult-oriented dessert. Go figure.

As it was, this good deed fell to good friends, and I will forever be grateful to Dana and her mom for it.

New corporate identity

After nearly four years of being content with the Blogger default header, I decided to slap on a new logo today. I think it's just what this 'ol blog needs to attract the hearts and minds of the "now" generation.

It's a boy!

Kate and I found out the gender of our baby at last week's ultrasound. Having notified immediate family and friends, I can now say we are having a boy.

At our previous ultrasound, the technician said, "I think this might be a boy...no, wait, that's a finger." Kinda gave a whole new meaning to the term "prick-tease."

I would've been surprised - though not disappointed - if the baby was a girl, but I'm quite elated about the prospect of fathering a son. Although I know it won't necessarily make me a better dad, having some vague recollection of what it was like to be a boy can't hurt. I still act like a 12-year-old boy much of the time, too.

She's having a baby

Now that we've made it past the three-month mark, I guess it's high time Kate and I went wide with the news that we are expecting a child.

The above ultrasound was taken last week. Although we were able to see the baby moving around, the technician had a hard time coaxing it into all the necessary positions at 8am. We still don't know if we are having a boy or girl, but I'm pretty sure he or she won't be a morning person.

Kate is grateful to be done with the first trimester. Morning sickness and fatigue are never pleasant, especially in extreme drought conditions. Fortunately, these symptoms seem to be abating as she moves into the second trimester. I find it amazing that she didn't stay in bed for the entire month of July.

This baby of ours is due sometime in the latter half of February. Impending parenthood has us both vacillating between excitement, anticipation and anxiety, but one thing is certain: I couldn't be happier to be embarking on this ride alongside Kate.

Famous architect

When I was in preschool, a teacher once asked me what my dad did for a living.

“He’s a famous architect,” I replied.

That wise-beyond-years observation became even more irrefutable last week when my dad was elevated to the American Institute of Architects’ College of Fellows for making significant contributions to the profession. Becoming a fellow is a high honor for architects; out of 86,000 AIA members, fewer than 2,600 are fellows.

Kate and I were privileged to witness the investiture ceremony, which was held Friday afternoon at San Francisco’s historic Grace Cathedral on Nob Hill. Despite persistent rain, I can't imagine a better city to be invested in.

Now that my dad is a fellow, his professional acronym has been upgraded to “FAIA,” which I believe stands for “Famous Architect I Admire.”

10 quick thoughts on the inauguration

1. I watched the peaceful transfer of power this morning in a darkened conference room with about 50 of my colleagues. Last time that many of us gathered around the TV in the middle of a Tuesday, we were watching the World Trade Center towers collapse.

2. I got a lump in my throat when Aretha Franklin was singing. Her voice definitely isn't what it used to be, but it was still Aretha.

3. I'm not a big Rick Warren fan, but I thought he struck a decent if not particularly eloquent tone today.

4. Joseph Lowery knocked it out of the park. Anyone who goes through what Lowery went through and comes out on the side of not hating everyone is a pretty good advertisement for his faith.

5. I wonder if 88-year-old John Paul Stevens is making retirement plans right now?

6. Two decades after Bush the Elder suggested atheists shouldn't be considered citizens, it was nice to hear Obama mention "non-believers" in his inaugural address.

7. After seeing Dick Cheney in a wheelchair, I can totally envision him playing Old Man Potter in community theater productions of It's A Wonderful Life.

8. Upon hearing that Ted Kennedy had taken ill at the inaugural luncheon, the last thing I wanted to see on CNN was a tight shot of John Cornyn's forehead.

9. Several instapundits clamored on about Obama's address not having a money shot for the ages, but I liked "To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West - know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy." Obama stepped on the trailing applause with his next line, but it would still make a nice soundbite.

10. Can't wait to fire up the electronic hearth and zip through the parade in TiVo time.

Buh-bye

Tonight is the last night America will have to go to sleep with George W. Bush as its president. I cannot recall a time when the changing of the guard was met with such ecstatic, wall-to-wall coverage. Not even the suspicious one-two punch of Reagan's 1980 swearing in and the Iranian hostage release can touch Obama's impending inauguration.

In many countries, a man like George Bush would be fleeing into exile with no clean socks. Instead he gets to go live in North Dallas, where there are plenty of like-minded folks who will welcome his appearance at chamber of commerce lunches and black tie galas. After all, as the chorus goes, "He kept us safe!"

As much as I detest what Bush and his enablers have wrought upon the planet, I'm content to leave the carcass of his presidency to historians instead of lawyers. We're too far screwed to indulge ourselves in the luxury of a show trial. In a divorce like this one, it's best to cut your losses and run like hell.

Here's to the promise of having a new captain who actually cares about flying the plane.

Beetsolonely: The Fourth Season

Well, here we are again. But this time, we're seniors. And we're gonna rule the school!

Fun, Fun, Fun

I turned 40 last Wednesday. I couldn't find a newspaper to commemorate the occasion to save my life, but that's what you get for being born at election time.

Two Sundays ago, my clever and thoughtful wife threw me a surprise bowling party to commemorate the occasion. Kate encouraged attendees to dress like me at different points of my life, so my dad showed up wearing a Hawaiian shirt and Chuck Taylors, which were my somewhat unfortunate uniform for much of the late Eighties and early Nineties. For her part, my mom dressed wore a Randall's uniform to represent my illustrious sacking tenure there. I don't think I could've been more surprised at that particular sight.

This past weekend, Kate and I went to Fun Fun Fun Fest in Waterloo Park. Aside from the dust, the festival lived up to its Big Boys-inspired name with spirited performances by the Krum Bums, Young Widows, Municipal Waste, the Dead Milkmen, the Ugly Beats, the Cynics, D.O.A. and many more under mild blue skies.

The only downer of the festival came when I overheard a couple of youthful punk rockers referring to someone in one of the many reformed acts playing by saying, "Shit, man. That dude's old. He's like 40 or something."

I don't mind the loud music one bit, but I wish the kids would keep it down when they say things like that.

President-Elect Obama

Wow. It's not often that I shed tears on account of a historic national event. There were a few on 9/11. And after Hurricane Katrina. But tonight, as I watched the crowd at the church where Martin Luther King once preached celebrate the election of Barack Obama, there were tears of joy.

There's plenty to be done, but tonight we celebrate.

Today is the day

I was born the day Richard Nixon successfully harnessed white resentment and Democratic disarray to squeak his way into the White House. I’m fervently hoping I can close the book on this last full day of my fourth decade on the planet knowing Barack Obama will be our next president. That would be one hell of a birthday present.

In my first five presidential elections, it always felt like I was voting for the lesser of two evils. This year was different. Obama is the first presidential candidate I've ever truly voted for.

Assuming he's elected, whether Obama can live up to the promise that precedes him remains to be seen. If he does, and I think he may in spite of my tendency toward pessimism, we could go a long way toward undoing the catastrophic damage wrought upon the nation and the world by eight years of Bush/Cheney rule.

Here's hoping today is the day.

A month and counting

One month from right this minute, I will be married to Kate Harrington. Our good friend David Wyatt will be officiating the ceremony in front of family and friends from all over the place.

All the cynical, curmudgeonly or irreverent things I may spew here should always be tempered by the fact that I could not be any happier about getting to spend my life with Kate.

I am a lucky man, folks.