It's Raining Shit!

One of the unforeseen consequences of moving into an apartment in the middle of an environmentally-conscious city was the rapid accumulation of garbage that we had no way of getting rid of. Our problem started right after we moved in. The landlord told us that garbage pickup happened twice a week: Tuesday and Friday. No problem, we said. However, by the time the first Friday rolled around, getting to the front door involved literally clawing our way through a corridor of packing paper, boxes, hangers, old clothes, discarded stationary, and milk bottles.

Needless to say, it felt good carting all of it out to the curb Friday morning. However as I was wrestling my fourth wardrobe box of shit down the stairs, one of our neighbors informed me that there was no way the garbage men would take any more than I had already deposited on the street. I looked at the three refrigerator-sized boxes I had managed to heave onto the sidewalk and then thought of the trash jungle lurking behind our front door. What were we going to do?

For a while Mitali had the bright idea of sneaking across the street and leaving bags of trash in the garbage cans in the park. This worked for a couple days until she managed to fill up all the cans within walking distance of our apartment. It was at that point that I think the neighborhood realized that they had Americans living in their midst. Unfortunately, Mitali's brave escapades hadn't made a dent in our ocean of garbage. We were still tunneling our way from room to room.

Fortunately on Monday night Mitali had another great idea which involved the use of our rental car. "Load all this stuff up and find a dumpster," she told me from the sofa, making room to breastfeed Sonya by pushing aside the head rest to a baby carseat, three dirty burp-cloths, an empty bag of toddler wipes, and the plastic bag our mattress had come in.

At first I was a little hesitant about the prospect of throwing garbage into city dumpsters. What if I got caught? However, thirty minutes later I was gleefully shoveling my second load of bursting cardboard boxes, picture frames, and nearly-empty lotion bottles into the back seat of our Nissan sedan. The first run had gone smoothly. After only five minutes of circling St. Laurent Avenue I had located a dumpster behind a pharmacy. Before Captain Planet had any idea what was going on, I ditched a mountain of tshirts, dirty diapers, and paper and was on my way back for another load.

Afraid that the pharmacy had discovered my crap pile and were now on the lookout, I decided to try my luck at another dumpster. The sun was setting as I tossed a few final skeins of cheap yarn into the trunk and slid into the drivers seat.

It was dark by the time I found another dumpster. This one, the size of a small bus, was positioned against what appeared to be a condemned apartment building. A construction site: the perfect place to drop a final load. I pulled up beside the bin and discovered that its sides had to be at least 8 feet tall. This meant that I had to prop large boxes over my head and then jump as I shoved them over the side. This was no small feat given the weight and enormity of the boxes I was heaving over. As my crap disappeared out of sight it made terrific crashing sounds as shelving units, pots, and ratty shoes thundered into the dumpster.

I was really making good time and had just heaved a steel rice cooker into the bin when a rather disheveled guy appeared out of nowhere. I proceeded to launch the rice cooker's heavy glass lid over the side.

"Dude," he said, clearly pissed,"get the fuck away from my dumpster." About to throw an old picture frame over, I froze. Oh god.

"Didn't you here me before?" he demanded. I stammered.

"N...n...no. I didn't hear anything. I swear!" A moment of silence passed between us and in it I heard the crashing sound continue in the dumpster. I had not thrown anything else in.

"Man, there's like 20 people living in there." I immediately thought about the vase, the rice cooker, and the pan I had just tossed over the side.

"Dude, I am so, SO sorry. I didn't realize. I'm leaving right now." Without giving him a chance to respond, let alone throw the rice cooker lid back at me, I jumped back in the car, slammed the door, and raced off.

I parked the car across the street from our apartment thankful that I had not speared a homeless person through the chest with the bathroom organizer in the back seat or clocked some vagrant schizophrenic with the picture frame still left in the trunk. Tomorrow would be Tuesday, I thought to myself. Excellent. I leaned the picture frame and the bathroom organizer against the fence with my neighbors' garbage, proceeded up the steps, and into our quite spacious new home.

The Internet Cometh

The Internet came to our apartment around 4:30 PM this afternoon and, according to Mitali the sole remaining witness of the event, was heralded by the mechanical whine of the Videotron technician wielding a high-power drill in ... my office. Somewhat to our dismay, in Canada, internet access installation can actually involve ... well ... installation. Without asking, without informing anyone, and, frankly, without any clear motivation, the technician ignored the presence of a wonderfully discrete cable outlet located in a sensible location along the back wall of my office, opting instead to drill a hole right in the middle of the wall, directly above the radiator. Apparently dissatisfied with this improvement to the decor, he abandoned this hole and proceeded to perforate the window frame with another. Videotron's strict sense of aesthetic dictated that he then thread a cream-colored cable through the window frame and down my pure white office wall. Judging winter to be at least a month away, the technician felt comfortable nailing the cable against the radiator and winding it, in a final garish display of attention to detail, across my now saw-dust covered guitar cases to attach to the cable modem teetering on the edge of my desk. Mitali entered the room after breast-feeding Sonya to discover what he had done. He turned to her and in broken English said, "The internet. It is good." Then he packed up his power tools and marched out the door. This is all I know. And after many deep breaths I can only agree with him that, despite it all, he was right. The internet - it is good.

30 Ways to Celebrate 30

Well it's now been nearly a month since my birthday. I am officially 30 and my entrance into this new decade has certainly been memorable - the arrival of my first child, my younger brother getting married, becoming a professor, moving to another country. A family friend of ours gave me a birthday card that provides a comical list of thirty rather remarkable, ridiculous activities to celebrate the arrival of one's third decade. I've made great progress. Here's what I've got so far:

1) Shop till you drop - after arriving in Montreal, Mitali and I realized that we had *way* more stuff (stuff = books & clothes) than we had shelf and drawer space in our new apartment. On top of that, I needed a desk. Last Saturday we took a bus to Ikea, dropped a load of cash on unassembled furniture, and considered the problem solved.

2) Eat cookie dough - Martin, one of our neighbors, brought us an extremely delicious apple-cranberry pie to welcome us to Montreal. We attempted to reciprocate by making him some oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies. I had a quick sample prior to cooking them. Sadly, they were better before we put them in the oven. Don't worry Martin, we're working on something else...

3) Quit your job - As a graduate student, I moonlighted doing some database programming for Texas Children's Hospital. While I enjoyed working on the project and with the staff there, having a baby, writing grants, advising students, teaching, and conducting research seems like enough to keep me busy for now.

4) Buy some bling - Familiar with the song "Whatever you like" by T.I.? That's pretty much what life has been like since arriving in Montreal. Want an iPhone? Boom - got 'em. Need that tray of strawberries? Done. A cabinet would look good in the corner? Bam - saw it, liked it, bought it. $150 for a work visa? Please! I'll pay you in cash. Baby wants some clothes? Here's a $50 - toss in some diapers while you're at it. Need some wheels for the weekend? Hey Enterprise, give me the biggest you've got, I'm takin' my ladies out on the town. Admittedly, I'm a little scared to see our credit card statement this month. But the ride has been fun.

5) Speed date - Nothing says "sensitive, responsible, considerate male" like strapping a baby to yourself and hitting the town. With Sonya's help I've gotten more glances from the ladies in two weeks than in the thirty years leading up to this transition. A quick note for gentlemen looking to use this technique: despite the furtive glances, I can't guarantee that you'll round the bases any time soon - it's a bit hard to swing for the back fence when you've got a baby on the front of you and her mother holding your hand.

6) Sing karaoke - Every night is Karaoke night at our house. Sonya starts screaming and Mitali and I start singing ... anything. We hit her up with everything from "Old MacDonald" to singles from the Eagle's to Beyonce's latest, "Halo". Sometimes I leave the bedroom window open to let the neighbors in on the fun.

7) Do the birthday dance - I'm not really clear on what the "birthday dance" is, but if it involves bouncing, rocking, or swinging a baby or cleaning up regurgitated milk, then I've done it ... many times.

8) Streak - This has now become part of the daily shower routine in our apartment. To get to our clothes, we scamper freshly washed from the bathroom, through the kitchen, past two large windows overlooking our neighbor's porch about 10 feet away, and into the bedroom which provides viewing to two other neighbors. Blinds installation might be in our future.

9) Wish for something outrageous - a full night's sleep? That didn't seem too outrageous at the beginning of the summer, but it certainly don't seem too realistic any more.

10) Party! Party! Party! - Let's see ... hanging out with someone who loves to make noise, stay up late, and drink a lot. I'd say our life has been one big party for the past two months!

11) Eat cake - I received and helped to consume two really delicious cakes for my birthday. My mom made a family favorite - peanut butter chocolate. Mitali's mom (who I call "Ma") brought home a three layer ice cream cake. We miss you guys! (And not just because of your cooking)

12) Play spin the bottle - on the to-do list.

13) Take a hot air balloon ride - also on the to-do list.

14) Bungee jump from a bridge - Will have to wait until Sonya has better head-control.

15) Date online - Haven't had a chance! We're still waiting for internet at the apartment. What really astonished me here in Canada, though, is that all internet plans give you an amount of data you can transfer per month. They may as well charge me per liter of air I breathe.

16) Moon somebody - see #8.

17) Pimp your ride - we don't have a car yet, but did rent one last week to drive to the US border to get Sonya's visa (long story). We figured that, while we had it, we may as well move our mountain of suitcases from the hotel to the apartment and go get some essentials at Walmart. In order to accommodate all our stuff, I upgraded our rental car to the largest sedan size they had - but declined the spinner rims option.

18) Get shot out of a cannon - I'm guessing that, if all goes well, the experience leaves a person disoriented, deaf, and with a pounding headache. Up until about five days ago, Sonya would regularly scream inconsolably for about two hours every night. I think the only difference between these two activities is that, in the aftermath, we didn't smell like gunsmoke.

19) Kiss a stranger - Here in Montreal they observe many French customs, one of them being the two-cheek smooch greeting/farewell. Since arriving I've had an opportunity to peck a fair number of unfamiliar faces.

20) Splurge on something frivolous - Messenger bags are the *thing* here in Montreal. Everybody wears them! I went out and purchased a bag made by ManhattanPortage. A frivolous purchase? Certainly not - the bag is just the right size for my laptop! On the other hand, Mitali observed that I already own two backpacks and three laptop messenger bags - all in perfect condition. She might have a point there, but I'm considering the question still open for debate.

21) Go skinny dipping - The one way we've found Sonya likes taking a bath is if I hold her through it. As she's now outgrown the sink, there's really no way for me to do this except by getting into the bathtub as well.

22) Runaway and join the circus - I think the circus might seem just a bit too tame after the past two months of our life.

23) Go crazy - Done. See #1 - #30.

24) Drop it like it's hot - If by "it", you mean Sonya just after she's had a huge, diaper-busting, leaking-out-the-back, looks-like-mustard poops, then I can check this one off. Mitali and I often jockey to be the one *not* to change these, which often turns into something that probably looks a bit like hot potato (played with a baby) to the casual observer.

25) Play strip poker - What's strip poker but gambling while taking off clothes? This is basically the definition of changing Sonya's diaper. The Play: remove her first diaper. The Wager: she's going to pee all over. If she does, you start peeling off her urine-soaked clothes (the Strip). If your luck has really run out, she manages to get you too and you start taking off some of your clothes as well.

26) Write your memoir - Started this blog! I hope that counts...

27) Go skydiving - Still on the to-do list.

28) Call a party line - Not really necessary since Montreal is pretty much the strip/topless bar capitol of North America (according to GQ, what lacks in quantity, they have in quality). What's really handy is that downtown they put these animated neon signs in their windows which leave little to the imagination. This way you get to be part of the action for no charge at all.

29) Cry over lost youth - Sonya is getting older! About a week ago she started smiling. She's now starting to get interactive. Every day she seems to develop some new aspect of her personality. And while it's so exciting to see her growing up, I can't help but feel a welling nostalgia when I realize that she'll never be the way she was yesterday again.

30) Live it up! - These past few weeks, Mitali and I often look at each other and agree that we are happier now than we have ever been. I don't think it is despite all the changes and demands being placed on us. I'm certain that it's *because* of the long nights, the screaming, the dirty diapers, the quiet moments of holding a cooing Sonya, the random shopping trips, discovering Montreal, assembling furniture, unpacking, and setting up my office. I truly feel alive every moment of every day. I'm not under any delusions that I'm enjoying every moment, in the sense of non-stop fun. Nonetheless, it is a great blessing to live so that every moment is building on the last and that not a single second slips by unnoticed and untouched.