Christmas 2009

Christmas Eve, 2009. My Fair Lady, Max, and I have finished loading up the car. Our plan is to drive that day out to Lubbock, TX, from Dallas and be there in a few hours. Under perfect driving conditions, it normally takes me about six hours and change to drive there, and about five on the way back. If you’re unfamiliar with the terrain, here’s a quickie synopsis:

Lubbock essentially sits on a plateau south of the Texas Panhandle. Once you start heading in that direction, you’re going uphill. The two primary routes to take are I-20 (way the hell south of our house) out into West Texas, then turn north on State Route 84 (I think). This takes you straight into town. The catch along this part is Ranger Hill, which has a steep (around 35%) grade that makes climbing it virtually impossible in bad weather. The other route, the one we opted for, was to take State Highway 380 west then join onto State Highway 114 which, more or less, winds through every small town in that part of the state before depositing you on the furthest end of Lubbock. The benefit is you’re gradually going uphill the whole way so you don’t really notice.

For those of you who may have missed the weather report, a freaking blizzard of unimaginable size and fury happened to be blowing through Lubbock at that point and was headed east. So take a wild guess what happened?

All those of you who said, “Mitch forgot to look at the map on Weather.com,” go ahead and award yourselves a cookie.

My Fair Lady assured me it was little more than a strong snowstorm and, while we would see snow en route, it shouldn’t be that bad. No worries all around. So we loaded up in the car and took off.

The drive itself wasn’t too bad for a while. Once we were on 380, we cruised right into Bridgeport which is where I figured we’d encounter the first flurries and I was right on the money. As the flurries steadily increased, we began noticing the cars heading east were increasingly covered with more and more and more snow. Being the ignorant yokels we were that day, we figured it wasn’t that big a deal. Heck, My Fair Lady was excited at the prospect of snow.

About an hour later, it started dawning on us that we may have made a mistake. The roads were starting to become treacherous, the snow was thickening, and the cars in front of us began slowing down. I honestly don’t recall the exact moment we realized how hard we were screwed, but I think it was the first of several realizations that I physically could not see the road.

It bears mentioning that I have 20/15 vision, which is remarkable considering several family members wear glasses. I will too, eventually, but the further out that day is the happier I am. We started to slow down to a crawl as the snow grew thicker and thicker. It was sticking to the ground and after another hour of this, it was sticking to the road. Combine that with sleet and you can guess how screwed up the roads had become. We looked at one another and mentally we both regretted leaving the house.

A little while later, I saw a dark shape straddling the middle of the road. We were down to about 20 miles per hour at this point, hazard lights flashing, and silent prayers were being mouthed. As we drew closer, we saw it was a truck that managed to barely steer out of the way before we passed him. Further down the road, we were forced to come to a stop behind a convoy of equally stopped vehicles.

Anyone who has ever driven through white-out conditions in a blizzard knows you have to keep going. It sucks the life right out of you, but the chances of getting through it are better if you keep moving. It proved to be fortuitous that we stopped for a moment, though, because the wipers were freezing up. I leaped out of the car, and immediately was sliced and diced by sleet hurled at me by 60 mph winds. In 20-degree weather. What fun.

I pried the ice off the wipers, then saw some trucks driving past us. I got back in the car, tested the wipers, then followed the new convoy past the old convoy. We inched forward little by little for the better part of four more hours.

You read that right.

In the meantime, it bears mentioning the conditions on the road. We’d long since passed the point where we were driving on a sheet of ice covered by inches of snow. Several cars were stopped on the side of the road, or were in ditches. One more thing to know about west Texas is how much of it is farmland. The majority of west Texas is as flat as a board so we’d drive past acres of open land that was covered in sheets of snow. Throw in high winds and the road, and everything else in front of us, would sometimes just vanish. We’d see far enough in front of us to know we weren’t going to hit anyone, then the wind would blow and POOF! Road, vehicles, everything in front of us was gone. Just… gone.

Eventually we made it to the small town of Seymour and pulled over into a gas station. By this time, we were pale, physically drained, and starving. The Enclave still had half a tank of gas, which was awesome, but we figured it would be best to have a full one. The snow had begun to taper off by this point, so the three of us ran inside and huddled for a little bit. Minute by minute the snow faded, until it stopped altogether.

When we looked east, all we could see were the blackest clouds covering the horizon. Had we actually looked at the online weather map, there is exactly zero chance we would be in that spot. We went ahead and loaded up on snacks and gasoline, then My Fair Lady took the wheel giving me a rest. She pulled out and we took off, slowly but surely.

For a bulk of the drive, we were on ice and snow but at some point, and I honestly couldn’t tell you where we were, the roads cleared up. No ice or snow anywhere on the roads, but plenty on the sides. My Fair Lady floored it and we probably picked up almost two hours worth of time during this stretch. It felt great to be moving again, because by this point we weren’t racing the weather.

We were racing the sun.

The second the sun dips below the horizon in west Texas, the temperature plummets. Being as bone dry as it is, we knew that whatever was on the ground was going to refreeze instantly and that would stretch this nightmare commute even longer. A few towns away from Lubbock, we ran into some serious ice on the roads and were forced to slow down again. Fortunately, My Fair Lady has experience driving in this sort of weather (hilariously ironic when you consider the N00b, i.e. Yours Truly, drove through the blizzard), so the rest of the trip went smoothly. Slow, but smooth.

To his eternal credit, Max was a dream the entire trip considering he was strapped into his car seat for nine hours. As we rounded the last bend and pulled off onto the road leading to the in-laws’ house, he started to lose it. He fussed for about 10 minutes and then we pulled in and were able to get out of that damn car. Seriously, I know of no child who would have been happy the entirety of that trip.

We went in and were greeted warmly. All we wanted to do was sleep because we were beyond exhausted. Everyone ate, we put Max to sleep, we visited for a while, then My Fair Lady and I cratered around 10:30 p.m. All was well.

Until 1:30 a.m. when Max woke up coughing.

We tried to calm him down, but he just kept coughing. We picked him up out of the crib, and brought him to bed with us to try and prop him up. This worked for about 10 minutes. Then he threw up all over us. Then he did it again. Any thought of sleeping was banished instantly. There’s a particular panic button every parent has. It’s behind glass that reads, “Only break in case of emergency.” The second your child starts vomiting, regardless of circumstance, that glass is shattered and the button is pressed.

Helloooooooooooooo adrenaline rush!

My Fair Lady held him while he just sat still with the most forlorn look on his face. I raced into the bathroom, swooped up towels, and ran back to the bed. I wiped him down, stripped the comforter off, and put a towel in front of him just in time for him to hurl all over it. The wiping down continued, and all Max could do was sit there with the most forlorn look on his face as his body expunged everything he had ever eaten in his short life.

Eventually he passed out. We cleaned up as best we could, then both of laid on the bed to keep watch. Bear in mind this is a small freaking bed so with three people on it, “crammed” would be a subtle yet accurate description. Max woke up and threw up again roughly an hour later. He’d cough for a bit, then start hurling, then cough again, then pass out. All we could do was hold him and hope for daybreak. It seriously became one of those times where you literally find yourself praying for the night to be over.

Please God, let the sun come up. Now would be great.

After another hour or so of this, we gave him some water. He promptly threw that up. So I dipped my fingers in the water and let him suck on the moisture. We did this off and on until around 5 a.m. or so when My Fair Lady finally called the overnight nurse’s line to ask what the hell we should do. We’d agreed beforehand that unless we saw blood that we weren’t going to call her in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve. We could, and did, manage just fine.

When My Fair Lady finally spoke to the nurse, it turned out we were one of several people to call her describing the exact same symptoms. Apparently, there was a bug going around that turns you inside out for a few hours, then stops. Fabulous.

Eventually, the sun peaked over the horizon. My Fair Lady staggered out to the family room to brief the in-laws. Max and I laid down on the floor on some pillows and literally blacked out. An hour or so later, My Fair Lady peaked in on us and Max and I were sound asleep on a makeshift pallet. It would be cute if any of us were coherent.

She woke us up and we padded out to the living room for Christmas morning. It was so sad watching little Max. He’d be sucking his thumb, holding onto his blanket, walking a few steps then laying down. Didn’t matter where he was. He’d just lay down on the floor and rest for a moment. The two of us were right there with him. You know you’re completely done when you expect to fall over at any given moment and hope you at least hit the floor.

We opened presents and had a generally pleasant morning. My father-in-law was gracious enough to run to the store that morning and pick up some Pedialite, which is essentially Baby Gatorade. The nurse said if he drinks some of it and keeps it down then he’ll be fine. So we gave him a little bit at a time, and he of course screamed when we took it away from him. Considering how thirsty he was, I couldn’t blame him. Were I in his shoes, I’d have stabbed anyone in the face who dared try to take my drink away from me.

We kept watch over Max throughout the day and to his credit, he was very subdued. He obviously felt like hell, but he never cried about it beyond when we’d take his drink away. We obviously didn’t want him throwing it back up so the morning became an exercise in gradually reintroducing liquid to his system. It was difficult but necessary and he managed to pull through it. At some point, I may have taken a nap as well. I honestly don’t remember much from the day other than it eventually was over. I was able to feed Max a bottle of formula and put him down. We thought he should be able to take that since he hadn’t thrown up since that morning.

Around 1:30 a.m. Max threw up again in his crib. Whoopee!!!!

That damn button was pushed again. I immediately picked him up and took him into the bathroom. Plopped him down in the tub, turned on the heating lamp, and stripped him out of his pajamas. He looked up at me and gave me a ghost of a smile. It was both sweet and heartbreaking because all I wanted to do was comfort him and make this bug stop its rampage. I smiled back at him, told him everything would be okay, then got to work.

I wiped him down and wrapped a towel around him to help keep him warm. I looked around for his diaper supplies, then realized they were in the family room. On the other side of the house. I swooped him up in my arms and he was swallowed by the towel. A little baby face poked out of this massive towel and looked at me quizzically. I moved as fast as possible to the family room, and located the supplies. Wishing I had two more arms, and a team of surgeons on standby, I managed to pack his changing supplies into my pockets and on him. He’s such a good helper.

We made it back to the bedroom where I changed his diaper then put him into fresh pajamas. This whole time he just looked at me and occasionally smiled. Even that, I think, was exerting energy he didn’t have but it was one of those lights moments that puncture a never ending darkness. I propped him up in bed with me, and then watched him until he went back to sleep. Which was about five minutes later.

I blacked out at some point. Later, My Fair Lady came to check on us and I snapped awake. I rapidly briefed her on the situation. She then wound up sleeping with us as well, and soon I found myself literally on the edge of the bed in the most cramped position I could imagine. There was literally no way to get remotely comfortable. At all. I’ve been told the bed is a queen, but if that’s so then they must have measured a small-ass Queen. One person can sleep comfortably on it. Two? Not so much. Certainly not two and a half.

Every time Max would cough, I’d snap awake and tilt him forward so he wouldn’t choke. Then he’d go back to sleep and I’d tried to work the cramps out of my back and spleen. Somehow that happened. Not sure how, but the pain was real. So are the flashbacks.
You can imagine how much sleep we got that night.

The next day, we went to get family portraits made, followed by me helping Lone Star clean the ice and snow off the drive way. Because what’s needed after a few days like that was some serious physical labor. I’d never shoveled snow before in my life, and I hope this remains the lone instance. I actually measured a sheet of ice we pried up from under the snow bank, and it was two inches thick. And it was covered by over a foot of snow. All this was just in the driveway. It took us a few hours, but we managed to clear it up and it did feel good to do something productive.

As opposed to doing what I really wanted which was laying on the floor wishing I was back home in my bed sleeping.

The good news was that the extensive snow allowed My Fair Lady to put Max on her old sled, which Lone Star then pulled over the banks. Max didn’t quite know what to make of the snow considering that was his first time to really experience it. Eventually, he’ll dig it but this time he just looked at it, then back at us wondering why we were smiling at him.

Fast forward to Saturday night ‘round 6:30 p.m. That was the moment when My Fair Lady said, “I don’t feel so hot.”

Take a wild guess where this is going.

She heads to the bathroom, and about 30 seconds later we hear her regurgitating with gusto. I was hoping wasn’t next. Those hopes vanished about 10 minutes later when I started feeling a little off. You know when you’re body is literally out of sync and that your immediate future is going to be filled with a lot of pain and bodily fluids? I knew it on the spot, and planned accordingly. By my reckoning, I had another 15 minutes before the freight train hit me so I quickly spoke with the in-laws.

My Fair Lady and I were essentially screwed for the night. Please take care of feeding Max and make sure he eats what little food he can. Ensure that he stays hydrated. Also, if you could please call a plumber that night to take care of the clogged toilet on the guest side of the house, we’d cover half the bill.

Forgot to mention that gem. Three toilets in the house. One in the master, one in the guest area, one by the kitchen. Two of those were guaranteed to be occupied off and on for the next six hours so the sooner all three were functional, regardless of cost, the better. Father-in-law picked up the phone to call the plumber right as my 15 minutes were up. I headed to the master bath where about 30 seconds later the freight train struck.

The best description I’ve come up with in the weeks since the incident is to imagine all of your insides twisted up like when you ring out a wet towel or t-shirt. Then ring out the water on both ends at the same time. I don’t know what this bug was, but it was the most violent, vicious little animal I’ve encountered in years. Everything I’d had for the day was blasted out of me with the force of a fire hose.

I could take it. I knew My Fair Lady could as well. I was amazed that Max was able to as well. I cannot understate the amount of pain this thing inflicted, and to know that he was able to handle it without being a blubbering mess amazed me. Trust me, the desire to have someone step into the bathroom and kill me was very real. After this round of fun, I cleaned up and rejoined the family. My Fair Lady was back at the table and as soon as I sat down, she was up like a shot and back in the bathroom.

This is pretty much how it went for the rest of the evening. By this point, the plumber was there so we had him walking across the roof and in and out of the house as well. Max started crying then because he still felt wrung out, and he could tell that both of his parents were screwed as well and neither of us could feed him or comfort him.

So let’s review:

1) Max is sitting there crying his head off because he wants his parents to comfort him and we can’t.
2) Some unknown plumber is trying to fix a clog.
3) My Fair Lady and I are constantly hurling in the two remaining bathrooms.
4) All of this at the in-laws in Lubbock which was under several feet of snow and ice.
5) Following a day that was spent entirely on the road in a blizzard and icy conditions.
6) Which was followed by a night of Max puking on us as we tried to make sure he lived until the morning guaranteeing that none of us had really slept for close to 72 hours.

Merry Christmas.

It stopped long enough for me to bathe Max and put him down. I may have thrown him into the crib. Doubtful, but that night was sort of a blur. Once he was down, I had to sprint to the bathroom again. I think it all finally stopped around midnight or so, but I can’t say for sure. It was around then. Doesn’t matter. It stopped long enough for me to black out in the room with Max while My Fair Lady cratered in the other guest room.

The following day was fortunately vomit-free. Max’s appetite started to return. He is a trooper if nothing else. I think I had some soup around 3 p.m. and maybe some toast that night. Not entirely sure. I vaguely recall the rest of our trip, and what’s there involves me laying on the couch or the floor babbling incoherently while Max played with his toys.

Originally, I was slated to drive home Sunday morning. Considering the festivities Saturday night, that plan was shot. So I spent another day in Lubbock resting up. Monday morning, I was ready to go. My Fair Lady would follow on Tuesday with Max. All of us pretty much wanted to be home right then, but this was the plan and we were going to make good on it. She gave me the night to sleep in the other guest room while she watched over Max, and I crashed. A bomb or three could have gone off right outside the door and I never would have moved. As it turns out, that’s exactly what happened.

Max apparently started coughing Sunday night and kept waking up, so My Fair Lady wound up quasi-sleeping with him again. He’d toss, turn, cough, and so forth yet never threw up. So she was exhausted again.

I loaded up the car in the morning, then made like a banana and split. Had the roads been 100% I think I would have broken the sound barrier fleeing the city. Fortunately, there was only one small town that still had ice on the ground. Everything else was fine. I made it back in about five hours flat, which was great. I intended to do laundry and straighten up the house when I got back, yet I wound up pretty much zoning out for a few hours. I think it was later that night before the wheels started actually turning in my head again.

Tuesday afternoon I went to Love Field to pick up the family. Seeing My Fair Lady walking up the way was… interesting. In one hand was more stuff than I figured anyone was capable of carrying. With the other she was pushing Max’s stroller. They both smiled at me with weary eyes that spoke volumes. I could tell they were glad to be home, which My Fair Lady confirmed the second we hugged.

Then we went to baggage claim and the waiting game began.

My Fair Lady was the last one off the plane due to having to carry so much stuff single-handedly so in theory her bags should have already been on the carousel. Such thinking would be incorrect. We waited for close to another hour before the bags finally started showing up, during which time Max passed out and it started snowing outside.

Oh, there were flashbacks aplenty.

We finally picked up the bags, and booked it to the car. Threw the bags in the back, tossed Max into his carseat, and gunned it out of the garage. I got us home as fast as possible considering the weather, but the drive was surprisingly smooth. When we walked in, all three of us pretty much collapsed.

Fingers crossed that Christmas 2010 is a merry one.

The Coming Storm

I'm working on the Christmas post but once I blew past three pages I realized it may take a bit longer. Just got to the real exciting part and I'm only getting to the violent part.

Why I Wish I Spoke Spanish

I keep getting spam phone calls on my cell that are pre-recorded in Spanish. It would help to speak the language so I know before I hang up whether or not they’re at least trying to warn me of impending doom. Or that I won a cruise.

Basically the same thing in my book.

2009 in a Nutshell

January 5 --> Laid off.

January 7 --> My Fair Lady gets contract job with Fortune 500 firm as their real estate attorney. Promised the job once they were ready to take things permanent.

Mid-February --> I get a part-time gig with a former co-worker with plans to revolutionize the medical industry via new software. Brilliant ideas, determined nature, effectively keeping things small and slow while money is tight, and I’m listened to when I make suggestions regarding things I understand implicitly. I learn first-hand how screwed up the medical industry actually is.

Mid-July --> Money for this firm vanishes and I’m left with insurance for the family but no income. Not the best trade off in the world, but I’ll take it. Begin tail spin into depression.

Mid-August --> We receive word that Fortune 500 is planning to hire attorney at some point in the fall. We get our hopes up as our bank account dries up. The work My Fair Lady was supposed to receive for a while has all but vanished. We assume it’s piling up on her desk at her future office, but uncertainty continues to cloud the air.

Mid-September --> I’ve been actively job hunting for several weeks. We’re continuing to watch our finances dry up and have no idea how we’ll pay our mortgage come October. We begin to have conversations about whether or not to sell the house. Future grows bleaker by the moment.

Mid-September Part 2 --> My Fair Lady’s work begins to flow again. Disaster is averted but just barely. I’ve taken a personal vow to go a full month without eating $.99 Mac & Cheese again.

Mid-September Part 3 --> I submit an application to a recruiter I’ve been submitting applications to for over a year with no results. The position is for a copywriter. I don’t expect to hear anything back but we need to get out of the house since we’ve spent the last two weeks sitting on the floor staring at one another for entertainment. We leave and go walk around an outdoor mall for some air. I get a call from the recruiter saying they want me to come in and interview for a position they have with one of their clients. We’re thrilled, even more so when 20 minutes later I get a second call from another firm that wants me to come interview.

Mid-September Part 4 --> I interview with the recruiter and they have a different position in mind for me than the one I applied for. They want me to have a phoner with their client the following Monday. I agree, we set it up, and I leave. Later that week I have a lengthy interview with Prospective Employer #2 and it goes really well. I’m flying high. The following Monday, I have a great interview with Prospective Employer #1 on the phone and we seemed to click. Fingers are crossed.

Mid-September Part 5 --> Next day I get the phone call in the afternoon that I landed the gig I interviewed for on the phone. It’s a long-term contract so who knows how long it’ll run. But I have it for a really solid salary, and I get to be a writer for a big name real estate/financial firm. Booyah.

September/October --> I start at firm, immediately click with crew, and begin doing what I want to do – write professionally at a big firm in the marketing department. Some of it is boring, some of it repetitive, some of it I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about. I love every second of it though and the people are great. My Fair Lady continues to get strung along by Fortune 500 though.

November --> Holiday rush insanity starts, magnified by Max’s 1st birthday party. This starts what we anticipate will be six weeks of non-stop crazy due to his birthday followed by Thanksgiving followed by Christmas followed by New Year’s. We’re expecting not all of this will go smoothly. Holy crap, will that prove to be an understatement.

December --> Month goes by like a flash. My Fair Lady goes into the office routinely and lands tons of work. Still not feeling the love from her co-workers, but the extra cash will help us get through the year in fine fashion. I’m also contacted by an old co-worker who wants me to help his new firm out on the side with some marketing and IT work. We’ll meet after the New Year to discuss more in-depth but things sound very promising as well as continuous. My actual work continues to go well. Been so busy lately that I haven’t posted squat on Gaming Trend in over a month. Will get back into that in 2010. Christmas hits, and it was such an Epic Fail on so many previously undiscovered levels that it deserves, and will receive, its own post. Hint: Spending Christmas Day wishing you were dead is not the most festive way to observe the holiday. We eventually make it through the other side and New Year’s is uneventful. We hope for good things in the new year.

Was 2009 a traumatic year? Yes. I pretty much stopped writing here and at GT because to do so at both while literally pondering how to pay our mortgage struck me as silly. Why spend time on a hobby when I’m not making any money at it and have no prospects for doing so? Why not spend that time looking for an actual job to help pay the bills?

So, has 2010 started better? You bet your assets. There was a silver lining throughout 2009 in watching Max grow for his first year. Simply put, it was amazing. We saw all of his firsts together (rolling over, sitting up, walking, et al.) and we fully recognize how rare it is nowadays for both parents to be able to see those. Here’s hoping this year goes smoother than last, but it’s starting off well.

Now on to that Christmas post...

I'm the Un-Sharer

I’m not the biggest sharer in the world, especially when it comes to private (i.e. family) matters. I’m just not. I am, however, a big believer in the phrase “write what you know” which I’ve always taken to mean “utilize stories and personalities around you to enhance the reality of what you write.” Its fine to drop in a name or a personality quirk into a story based on whatever genre you choose, but when it comes to actually telling real stories about real people I find myself in a quandary.

My primary frustrations with it are how damn opinionated everyone in my family is. I don’t mind that on the whole, but when you blog about it the results are immediate. I’ve been called by family members griping about how they’re portrayed, and I’ve been griped at regarding my lack of coverage in certain areas. Then when I turn to those areas and exaggerate a detail or so for comic effect, the only effect I get is a comment saying, “You make me sound like an ass!”

After a while, you just lose interest in being hassled. Even later, you stop caring altogether and just enjoy the moments as they happen without feeling the need to report them to the world. Factor in the economic calamity of the past year and throw in a dash of “holy crap an Office Max exploded all over my desk” and you can physically feel the impetus to write about your personal life on the web dwindle little by little every day.

So here are my words of wisdom to kick of 2010: Screw that.

This goes to all of you (family included) who may gripe and complain enough for me to censor myself. This goes out to myself especially to get off my ass, shut the hell up, and chronicle the goings-on in my world so that my son will one day have a record of what happened when he was growing up. I’ve only retained certain memories of my own childhood, not all of them welcome, and it would be neat to be able to look back 20 years hence to compare where I was as a child to where I ended up as an adult. I think my children may enjoy that.

If not, then at least I have material for their wedding toasts.

If you have a problem with what I have to say, tough. Get your own blog and bitch at me from afar. That’s what the Internet was invented for, after all. In the meantime, I’m going to get back into this and stay in this come hell or high water. I’ll confess it helps that the high water of last year appears, for now at least, to be receding a bit. It’s enough to breathe at least and I’ll take it. So get ready for some sharing because 2010 is going to be a better year on the whole for me, my family, and even you.

But not you in the back. You had your chance and we’re done.

One

I want to wish a very happy birthday to my son, Max, who turns one today. It has been an absolutely wild, bumpy ride this past year. But the result is one of the sweetest, happiest, most intuitive toddlers I've ever seen. He's the joy of our lives. Watching him squeal with glee and run to the bedroom and bathroom when he knows it's bedtime is one of many such things he does that makes us laugh every time. We love you, Max, with all of our hearts and wish you a very happy first birthday.

On a side note, I understand I've been away from the blog for two months now. On the dot, actually. I'll post an update early next week explaining my absence and what will, hopefully, be in my future.

I now have a Toddler - by My Fair Lady

It seems as if Max's baby days are already over. At 9.5 months he started walking much to our surprise. However, as any parent knows, the first days of walking are filled with much more crawling than walking. Well, today he turns 10 months old, and now he walks more than he crawls :( While I am so happy that he is happy, healthy, growing and advanced for his age, a little part of me is so sad that my baby is already growing up. It is a constant push - pull - wanting your child to succeed and grow - and wanting your baby to be your baby forever.

In other news, along with the walking comes many more bumps and bruises. At Gymboree this week, Max took quite a tumble before I could catch him. He was walking across the carpet trying to get to a inflatable ring and caught his foot on the edge of the playmat and fell on the play equipment. However, after some love and affection from Mom, along with an icepack for his poor little cheek, he was up and running in no time, ready for more action. I think Max recovered much more quickly than poor Mom. I know he will have some falls which will include bumps and bruises while he explores his new world, but as his Mommy, I hate to see him hurt.

But, along with his toddling comes great fun as soon he will be able to run everywhere giggling and squealing as he goes with me running after him :)

And now my phone has a blog

Coming to you courtey of my iPhone which has several blog apps. Booyah.

IT'S ALIVE!!!!

So My Fair Lady and I are sitting on the floor playing with Lil Max when he stands up. Not entirely out of the ordinary as he'd been doing that off and on for the past few days. But then he walked and our mouths dropped in shock.

He and I were playing a game where I held out a glass of water and he would try and get it. So I raised it up and he balanced off my knee to try and get it. Then he let go and stumbled forward a few steps. We were stunned. Then he stood up again, went for the glass again, only this time made a hard left and walked to the fire place.

We were stunned. So much so we just had to have him walk between us again and again. Then later that night we got video of it, sort of, and it's hilarious. I'll see about posting it some day. In the meantime, we have to batten down the hatches because by this time next week he'll be running.

A week after that he'll be driving and then all bets are off.

"Yes."

The other day while I was looking for a job, an ad popped up in my Gmail for a literary agency out of NYC. I clicked it with the intention of keeping it for the future when I have stacks of completed manuscripts and need an agent to sell them. As I happen to have a script ready to go, I scrolled through their site to see if they had a screenplay agency. They did. I clicked it and filled out their form, dropped in my logline, and fired it off. The form said they'd get back to me within 48-72 hours.

Lo and behold, I received an email from them today. They wanted to see my script.

That loud thunderclap everyone heard this morning was my brain exploding with glee. I wrote back to them answering their questions (basically a get-to-know-you email telling them a little about myself and so forth), and attached the PDF. BAM! Screenplay is off to an agency, and a solid one at that. It's small, relatively new, and they are looking for COMMERCIALLY VIABLE material (it was in all caps in the email). This tells me a few things:

1) They're hungry and want a solid script that delivers on everything producers want at any given moment.

2) Since they're based out of NYC, they have a work ethic lacking from the California lifestyle. Agents in NYC will kick down the door and threaten people for their clients. Agents in LA schedule a three hour power lunch and talk to you about five minutes while talking on their iPhone to their other clients the rest of the time.

3) They don't take 4-6 weeks to reply with a one sentence message saying they're interested or not. 48-72 hours for the initial response, and 7-10 days after receiving material they let you know whether they like it enough to move forward.

So I'm in a good spot emotionally right now. Because an agency, even a small one, said "Yes."

And now that's broken

In other news, unrelated to the post below, the second set of blinds in the office is now broken. Tried to lower it to keep the sun out of the office while I'm working in here, but it only got about halfway down before stopping altogether. And now I can't raise them either. Fabulous.

But this in no way, shape, or form is related to me taking out my anger at Ninja Gaiden II on a pair of helpless blinds.

Now Playing: Ninja Gaiden II

Seriously? Screw this game. I mean screw it with a drill and stomp on it for good measure. My Fair Lady commented that she was under the impression gaming should be relaxing, and shouldn't cause my veins to buldge and my fury to explode into Hulk-like rage.

I'm strangely conflicted though with "Ninja Gaiden II" because while there is literally no end to the staggering amount of frustration, the other end of the spectrum is present as well. The ways in which you can just kill the ever loving crap out of evil ninjas is astonishing. Your character, Ryu, starts out as a badass and continues from that lofty perch up to the level of furious monster that will kill you so hard. But in between these moments of blood drenched bliss are so many sequences of frustration that will literally cause you to blow all of your fuses at once.

Take these examples of both ends of the spectrum:

1) When fighting ninjas, the ways in which you dispense the pain are countless. When decapitating a foe is just the beginning of you killing them, then you know you're in for a good time. It just melts your brain when you pull off a combo that results in 15 dead ninjas and 60+ body parts. I'd start swinging swords, flails, or this big ass scythe and all around me body parts and gore are flying. And when you think you've killed someone enough, Ryu stabs them in just the right way and really tears their body apart. It's tough to beat that.

2) Then you have boss fights either in the middle of a level or at the end of it that make you want to literally kill the development team, resurrect them, and kill them again until you get bored. Or you can hit the level I did last night (Ch. 13) which funnels you down a long series of tunnels packed to the gills with monsters, all of whom can hit you constantly, and there are no save stations in sight. Also, it doesn't help that the camera is glued to Ryu's heavily muscled ass. I don't mind fighting a room full of bad guys, but when half of them are off camera and able to hit me without me being able to at least judge the distance between us, I get frustrated.

On any given playthough, I scream in fury at the game. Not helping matters is the fact that 95% of the enemies are cheating bastards. Oh no, I shall not be replaying this game, Team Ninja, not now or ever. But at this point I'm one chapter away from the end and I'm going to soldier on and complete it just to say I did it. Screw this game. I'm going to beat it into the ground and then I may stomp on it for good measure.

A long walk, a short pier, and much more

It never fails - I sit down to finally blog after so long and my mom calls. And then My Fair Lady wants me to proof her email correspondence. Hahahahahaha.

Let me start off by saying in the grand scheme of things challenging Yours Truly, My Fair Lady, and Lil Max, keeping up with "Now Playing At" hasn't been real high on my priority list. In fact, looking down at the floor I'd it's closer to if not under the stack of "must do now" items that have piled up. At the top of that pile?

Find a job. Like, right now. Right this second would be helpful too.

Basically, we've in a major bind since the first of the year when I was laid off. Two days later, My Fair Lady was hired in a contract capacity as a real estate attorney and has done a bang up job for her employer... who has kept her on contract. I signed on in February with a non-profit start-up as a writer/project manager and they're funding dried up in July. In the meantime, we've had to deal with an infant, an inability to afford daycare, and massive amounts of juggling as one will take him while the other works and so forth.

So here we are at the end of August when things have, in theory, started moving again. I've applied to practically every writing job I can find (four today if you can believe it) and I've even had a few interviews. Actually landed a quickie contract job for a company out of Florida last week where I rewrote all the text on their website. The worry here is we're majorly up against the wall, massively stressed out, and feeling more than a little terrified over what's going. I've applied to so many jobs I've had to start a Word document to track them all so I don't get confused.

In other words, the blog has been on hold for a while now due to market forces strangling the holy hell out of me.

I'd love to get back into doing this on a regular basis, I really would, so I again must hope for the best. In happier news, I've completed my screenplay and sent it off to a horror script contest in LA, and have a few friends hunting for agents that will take my call. I've also continued outlining and actually started a book, as well as outlined three new scripts that someday I hope to actually write. I strongly believe that in the next few weeks, good things will happen but it's the waiting game that is absolutely killing me.

But enough about that. How's Lil Max? In a word, exhausting.

Earlier in the year, he would lay on the floor like the blob a three month old is and just whine and whine some more. We'd feed him, try to play with him, but he'd just whine. Strangely enough, once he figured out how to do the Army Man Crawl™ he stopped whining. Why? Because then he could follow us. He quickly graduated from Army Man Crawl™ to Man In The Desert™ to finally Full Contact Crawling™. But a few weeks ago, he made two bigger discoveries:

1) Sleeping all the way through the night means Lil Max is even happier during the day.

2) Standing up and cruising along Mommy and Daddy's furniture is nine kinds of nifty.

When I say he's a handful, or he's exhausting, or both, it's because there's more energy and joy of life packed into this little nine month old than anything I've ever seen. From the second he wakes up, his grin is ear-to-ear and he's excited to play.

Then he does something way advanced like he did last night and My Fair Lady and I fall out laughing.

We have a large box (courtesy of buying diapers in bulk online) and since he prefers playing with random household items instead of his toys (for the most part), he uses the box as a climbing tool. Yesterday I decided to try to chase him around it so I dropped to all fours and threatened him with tickles. He giggled loudly then squealed with glee when I moved after him. Around and around the box we went, laughing all the time.

Then he ducked inside the box (it was on its side) and "hid." I was under the impression that a nine month old shouldn't be able to initiate hide and seek, yet there he was doing just that. He would "hide" in the box, and squeal when I "found" him. It was hilarious.

At the very least, watching Lil Max grow and learn every single day for the last several months has been a joy. It's been stressful due to the financial situation, but bonding with Lil Max has been one of the best things I've ever done. He's been down for his afternoon nap for about two hours now (he caught the sniffles last night) so it's time to wake him.

After I swing by the kitchen and hit the pan of brownies first...

Script #1 = Registered

This should have gone up on Monday after I did it, but better late than never. I registered my first screenplay with the WGA on Monday and I feel pretty dang good about it. This is a day that has been a long time coming and I'm excited. I have my feelers out there looking for agency names, and people who may have an interest so here's hoping things come to fruition sooner rather than later.

I'm also prepping to fire it off next week to a screenplay contest so we'll see. Right now I'm condensing a 108-page script into a single paragraph synopsis, which is tougher than it sounds. Oddly enough, condensing it down into a single sentence logline was simpler. Go figure.

As for the near future, I'm making notes now on a book I've been playing with off and on for the past year, as well as beginning to outline a script I wrote a rough draft for last year. Didn't really have an outline at the beginning of that one, which explains why it only runs 85 pages and sucks. But that one, since the first draft is done, should probably be my new focus so I'll at least have two scripts ready to go.

And yet again, this blog suffers from my inability to find time beyond Facebook status updates to let the world know what I'm doing. I'd get a Twitter account, but I feel stupid every time I go there so that's a non-starter. Even posting new GamingTrend reviews in our Twitter account leaves me feeling worried about the mental capacity of future generations. Though, in a hilarious bit of irony, ABC News last night commented at how John Quincy Adams essentially wrote journal entries of comparable length to Twitter posts, and he became president.

History may not always repeat, but it does often rhyme.

The Life of the Party - by My Fair Lady

That is what I am now calling Max. I am constantly amazed at how social and easy going my baby boy is. It is truly amazing. Take tonight for example.

We met a couple for dinner at 7:00pm. Max is typically in bed by 8:30, so we thought, no sweat, he can handle it! Well, we haven’t seen these friends for awhile and of course we ended up staying at the restaurant until 9:05 pm. During which the WHOLE time, including after his normal bedtime, Max never fussed! He was happy, smiley, just having a great time! Makes Momma so proud!!

And, then he did what he has done before. We put him in the carseat to drive home (which was a 5 minute drive – maybe 8) and he cried the whole way home.

Why am I so amazed you ask? Because he ALWAYS keeps it together for company or social occasions. This baby learned his company manners when he was 3.5 to 4 months old. Sure he can be a little rough afterwards (he did go down after his bottle and bath immediately), but he is a dream while we are out with friends, at parties, etc.

I never knew a baby could figure out so young when it is time to be happy and have fun and when it is just Mommy and Daddy and I can tell them I am not so happy anymore. Now, we rarely (almost never) keep him out past his bedtime. But, it sure makes me breathe easy knowing that he will be a doll for the company, but may show me his frustration when it is just the three of us.

WOW!! I love Max for infinite reasons, and tonight is just one of the smaller reasons.

My baby is 7 months old! - by My Fair Lady

EDIT - This was written but not published when Max was 7 months old. So here it is now.

Max is such a good little baby. Although as everyone has seen, he doesn't sleep through the night consistently, that is a small price to pay for such an amazing baby. Max is so happy and I love to make him laugh. He laughs very easily and I think he gets that from me. It is so funny to make funny faces and get him going.

Tonight while Mitch and I were eating, Max was sitting in his high chair between us eating a rice cake, and he fell asleep while he was sucking on his rice cake. Too funny!! Of course we immediately started to take pictures of him to capture the moment.

Max is a very inquisitive baby and studies everything while we are out and about.

Time to dust this one off

Alright, so I was lied to when people told me I would still have time to do my own thing even after having a child. For all of you out there who still believes this, WAKE! UP! NOW!

Basically your life is consumed wholly and utterly and if you're a sort like Yours Truly who prefers to blog and write when I think up something funny, or want to moan about movies and games, then you're effectively in the dog house. I don't think I have ever been this exhausted EVER in my life, and that includes four years of college where I lived, on average, on three hours of sleep a night. But then a funny thing happened last week...

Little Max slept through the night. Then he did it again. Then he did it again. Then he screwed us by getting a bug of some sort that hurt his tummy and ruined all of our nights. But that wasn't his fault and despite us being frustrated, we'd picked up enough sleep from the previous nights to get through it.

Then the next night he slept through it again.

Now, for a little clarification on how Max sleeps through the night. He goes down around 7:30 p.m. or 8 p.m. depending on how hard he's crashing. Then he wakes up between 11:30 p.m. and midnight which is when we change his diaper then feed him an 8 ounce bottle of formula. Treat with Mylicon, burp him if possible, then put him back down. He's then out until 7 a.m.-ish.

After almost eight months of not sleeping through the night, this has been a divine blessing. Sleep. Blessed sleep. And here I am blogging again. Who knows how long this kick will last? But I can tell you this much:

Had a phone interview today for a part time writing gig where the writers are expected to burn out between 500 and 1000 words a day. Pffft. I can do that in my sleep. Should I get the gig, and My Fair Lady continue to work in hers, then our fortunes could turn around right quick. Not to mention that sort of constant adrenaline-fueled writing binge on a daily basis is EXACTLY what I need. Like any other skill, the ability to write is useless unless you write.

That's something I've not been doing a lot of lately, except on my script which is now on draft #4. I'm incorporating edits from my readers as well as from my own two eyes and the script is vastly superior now to my original draft. I want to get everything together by next week then start drafting out loglines and queries to the various agencies on my list. After all these years of talking about it, I'm finally on the verge of actually sending my script to Hollywood. It is difficult to understate how much of a personal accomplishment that day will be. Which reminds me - I'm going to shout for joy when I register my script with the WGA and the USPA.

And that day is coming very, very soon.

In theory, if I get this spot then it'll kick my ass hard enough that I'll write more here and for myself since I'll essentially be writing all the time. Since it's part time, that sort of intensive writing would be a perfect kick off for the day. More as it develops.

Whew!

So that's what it feels like to buckle down for three weeks and blow through a screenplay. And here I thought I'd be able to finish off this latest draft in no time flat. That train of thought left the station right around November which was, conveniently enough, the same time little Max was born.

I've been trying to finish the rewrite ever since.

Despite My Fair Lady giving me plenty of time here and there to write, it still hasn't been enough. The massive level of stress induced by a newborn (magnified tremendously by both parents working from home and being with him24/7) has pretty effectively neutralized my creative impulses. Not to mention consumed both of us more than we'd like. With newborns, you have to make a list of things you want or need to complete, then expect to get no more than two done a day. That's if you're lucky. If not, then nothing will get completed until (maybe) tomorrow.

With that in mind, I've spent more time in the last three weeks devoted to finishing this thing than was probably healthy. So I decided that I would have it locked by 5 p.m. 06/05/09. Setting a hard deadline was literally the only thing that would help me because I'd tried everything else. Finally, I just looked in the mirror, told myself that it was time and set that deadline. Completed it Thursday night at 11:30 p.m. But! .....

Factor the sort of lifestyle we're now living into trying to craft a feature length screenplay and make it good, and the challenge most closely resembles Mt. Everest. As an example, here's what happened the night I completed it.

Put Max down about 7:30 p.m. For the next 45 minutes I cleaned the kitchen and straightened around the house. My Fair Lady will think this reflects poorly upon our skills as parents. I disagree. I think it reflects that we're parents. Then I ate something quick and finally sat down at my computer around 8:20 p.m. or so. Cranked through the finale of my script and all was going well. I actually knew exactly where I was going at that point and the light at the end of the tunnel was brilliant.

At 9:30 p.m. I'm five sentences away from completing it when I hear Max wake up. If you're planning on having kids, I'd recommend this Safety 1st Baby Monitor set as the one to get. Great range + crystal clarity = win for America. I pick him up and try to rock him down. He's having none of it. I rock him some more. No go. I stare at my computer screen. Oh so close.

My Fair Lady was out at an event so this was entirely my shop for the night, just to clarify.

After a 30 minute power struggle, I finally get him back down. I drop back in my seat and it takes me a bit to calm down and then go back to finishing. By that I mean I played some Fairway Solitaire to soothe my nerves, then jumped out of that and opened my script back up. Where was I? Oh yes! I was....

"Waaaaaaaaaaa!!!!"

At that point I was banging my head on the desk. Probably harder than I should have, to be honest. I checked back on Max, and believe it or not he was more awake than he had been previously. Bottle time!

Changed his diaper first, then fixed him a large bottle, followed by trying to rock him back down. My Fair Lady showed up then right as I was rocking him down, and she helped me get him into bed again. He was snoring by the time I walked from his crib to the door.

Once we were out of earshot I exploded in frustration. I wasn't angry at her for going out, nor was I angry at him being up constantly. Had I been screwing around on "Left 4 Dead" or "Ninja Gaiden II" I wouldn't have cared. But the fact I was five sentences away from completing this yet was stymied royally pissed me off.

So I took out those frustrations on a bad guy at the end. He was going to live. Not now. Oh no. Not at all. Originally he just learned a lesson. Now he gets shredded. Subtle? Nope. Satisfying?

Absolutely.

ADDENDUM:

I started this blog post at 1:57 p.m. and am finishing it at 8:16 p.m. If that doesn't pretty much spell it out for you what raising an infant is like, I'm not sure what else will.

Baptism

This weekend was a big one in terms of family because we had Max baptized on Sunday. This meant My Fair Lady's family was in town (staying with us, naturally) and my family hosted lunch. It also meant that Max had to be on his best behavior in front of a large congregation while wearing a dress and getting what he might regard as a bath.

So the challenge unfolded before us. Should we continue his training in the finer arts of adult-baby interaction? Or should we instead assume that he had reached the pinnacle of his training and was ready to go forth on his own? We opted for the latter. It was just a question of how would everything turn out.

We raced about the house that morning, frantic to gather our equipment and our wits. Little Max opted to forgo sleep the night before, instead deciding it best to psych himself up for his debut on the world stage. An unfortunate by-product of this was tremendous suffering on the part of his poor, beleaguered parents who by this point should be used to him not sleeping.

When he finally decided he was finished with his bed that morning, he let us know via a steady stream of babbling to his frog. We got him ready, fed him, and proceeded to wrangle ourselves and the in-laws into our vehicles. The mad dash to the church began.

Down the Tollway we raced, our hearts beating in our throats. Would we make it in time? Would Max throw up all over the minister? Would he do worse? Would the minister throw up all over him, either through illness or retaliation?

These were the thoughts that began to drive us mad with worry.

Once we arrived, we confirmed the location of both family parties then headed to the room specifically set aside for baptism babies. There we met two other couples, one of which was in our orientation meeting the prior month. The ministers arrived, said their pieces, and we paused for a moment of prayer. Which was the exact moment Max decided he liked his daddy so much he just had to deliver a slopping wet Baby Kiss right then and there.

Normally when we say "Baby kiss!" to Max, he turns and opens his mouth wide and plops it up against our heads. Recently though he figured that wasn't demonstrative enough of the love, so he grabs our hair with both hands, opens his mouth as wide as possible, then pulls himself to our faces.

Consider yourself warned if you're ever holding him and the phrase "baby kiss" is uttered in your vicinity. You then have about a second to make your peace with God before your face is mauled by an over-enthusiastic six month old.

As everyone finished their prayers, I was struggling to free myself from Max's surprisingly strong grip. The ministers left, I wiped my face down and pulled a chunk of hair from each of his little hands, then made sure he was ready. Away we were ushered to the sanctuary. We sat in the pews to the side, and I spotted Diva and Brother G waving at me from a few pews over.

Then the worm squirmed.

Maybe it was the choice of hymns. Presbyterians have an odd assortment of hymns, and the current reigning minister of our church has eclectic tastes to put it mildly. Or maybe he took after his old man. He'd also never seen that many people in one place so he started looking around, eventually smiling at and making faces for the elderly woman sitting behind us. Then the singing started and his little head spun around to say, "Wassat?"

Then we were called up for the sacrament and the three of us followed the other families to the front of the sanctuary. The child to our left was five months, Max was six months, and the other child was closer to 10 months old. We stood in the middle and the minister began prattling on in his usual way (I'm not his most ardent fan) when an odd noise echoed through the hall.

"Bbbbbbbbuuuuhhbbbbbb."

The 10 month old picked that moment to realize moving his finger up and down rapidly on his lips produced a funny noise.

"Bbbbbbbbuuuuhhbbbbbb."

The congregation busted out laughing. The minister tried to keep a straight face but to no avail. He picked up the first child and began delivering his spiel as he baptized the child.

"Bbbbbbbbuuuuhhbbbbbb."

Next up was Max who looked at the man more curious than anything else. He seems fascinating by elderly people, I guess because their faces look so much different than ours. He's with us almost 24/7 so seeing something new is fascinating to him. He smiled a little bit as the water hit his head, and then he was officially square with the Lord.

"Bbbbbbbbuuuuhhbbbbbb."

Next up was Blabbermouth who also handled the water well. Then the minister closed with a lengthy prayer (very, very lengthy) and we were directed to our seats.

"Bbbbbbbbuuuuhhbbbbbb."

Max decided at that point that he'd had enough of sitting on our laps, so we quickly made our way out and dropped him at the day care. Fortunately, he was the only one there and a grandmother roughly 354 years old was anxious to hold him. Unlike last time, he didn't take a nap in those petrie dishes they refer to as "cribs" so illness failed to find him again. The rest of the service was perfectly fine up to the sermon, when the minister figured a mixing of several different hymns would illustrate his point. After all was said and done, I had no idea what the hell his point must have been.

Fail.

After taking several pictures outside (and the weather was perfect), we headed to my parents' house for lunch and more pictures. Max was a doll through this whole ordeal, doubly funny considering his behavior the night before. We can only hope that eventually he'll get to where he can be with lots and lots of people and not get stressed out.

But since he's apparently my clone, fat chance of that happening... ever.

The extra good news from the day's events though was getting a rare picture of both our families together. My Fair Lady has moaned for years that we never did that during our wedding, but fortune smiled upon us Sunday and granted her wish.

Oh, and Diva threatened to abscond with Max back home to LA due to his increasing adorability. Yes, he's adorable and grows more so every day. No, you can't have him Diva. Steal someone else's.

Now Playing: Star Trek

They finally did it. But first a quickie history:

"Star Trek" began in the 1960s, ran for three years, was subsequently canned despite solid ratings (an imprecise science back then), then brought back to great fanfare as "Star Trek: The Motion Picture" in the late 1970s. The film was meant to be the rebirth of "Star Trek." Yet for all the money hurled at it, and director Robert Wise's misguided, though bold, idea to make the film a genuine science fiction picture, the result is best summed up by comic writer Harlan Ellison's derisive dubbing of it, "The Motionless Picture."

A few years later, gold was struck. The budget was considerable slashed for the sequel, sets and effects were all reused, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the greatest villain of the series, Khan, was brought back and Ricardo Montalban delivered one of the single most legendary performances to grace cinema. Good villains are a dime a dozen but the great ones are near mythic in their infrequency. Khan was such a villain and that set the stage for the rest of the film series. There would be highs (parts IV and VI) and lows (part V and some of part III), and of course there would be new shows.

I wasn't as big a fan of "Star Trek: The Next Generation" as my friends were because I understood, even if I lacked the proper TV lingo, what a "reset button" was. Every episode would do something drastic then by the end everything was fine and on their merry way the crew went. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. But then came "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine" and suddenly "Star Trek" was dangerous again.

For the record, the show did not start well. It took a season and a half for them to find their footing despite some stellar one-offs mixed in. But once the show figured out what it wanted, it never looked back and by the end of it primary characters were dead, worlds left in waste, and half the Federation starfleet was decimated by a war that was so large it took two (almost three) seasons to cover. The show demonstrated that creator Gene Roddenberry's vision of a Utopian human society could be achieved while still bringing some awesome drama. Unfortunately, the staggering amount of lexicon developed over the preceding decades peaked here and all subsequent shows relied more and more on tech-speak and less on drama.

The less said about the "TNG" movies, "Voyager," and "Enterprise" the better.

JJ Abrams must have said "Screw all that!" because the first thing he did with his brilliant resurrection of the franchise is ensure that it is first and foremost a "Star Trek" for everyone. This new film is confident, swaggering, and filled with so much energy and passion and rich, rich emotional drama that I can scarcely believe I saw just one film instead of five. It brings back the original characters fans grew up with and reinvigorates them with an mission sorely lacking from the most recent shows.

In short, this film is filled with win front to back and I can't wait to see it again.

It kicks off with an event that brought My Fair Lady to tears - an attack on the USS Kelvin. Through an act of selflessness, the newly minted captain goes down with the ship in a last ditch effort to at least hurt their unknown attackers. The survivors include his wife who managed to give birth and leave enough time for the captain to participate in the naming of their son - James Tiberius Kirk.

That this singular event is what changes the whole of the "Trek" universe is genius. In the original storyline, Kirk's dad was his inspiration for boldly going through the Academy. So what happens if you remove the inspiration for someone whose actions later in life would literally shape the future of a galaxy? What sort of future would you be left with?

Oh by the way, this is indeed a time travel film in the sense that time travel is involved. That it opens with a game changer and throws another one at you roughly every 15 minutes or so is par for the course. You never know what to expect here and any film that can keep viewers this on their toes deserves all the accolades one can lavish upon it.

I loved the introduction of the characters (especially the hilarious throw-away line that describes where McCoy gets his future nickname). I loved how Uhura gets more lines in the film than the original did in the entire series. I love the awful and hilarious fate of the red shirt, as well as the entire setup for the joke. I love that Christopher Pike is not just in this film, but is a key player. I love that we get to see the test by which Kirk made his name, and it is every bit as hilarious as we'd hoped for with a punchline that left me howling. I love the advanced-yet-retro feel for the equipment and the costumes. And most of all I loved the way the cast absolutely nailed their characters.

Chris Pine is going to be the next Brad Pitt, albeit with more range. I think Pitt does brooding and crazy well, but the in between is where he repeats himself. Pine has the looks for sure, but he simply oozes confidence throughout which is exactly what he has to do as one of the biggest alpha males Hollywood has ever come up with. He's not playing Shatner either. He's playing James T. Kirk and he is note-perfect. Ignore how rapid his ascension to the captain's chair is for a moment, and stand in awe at how wonderfully Pine plays it. He's also got rock solid comic timing. All of this bodes well for future installments.

Zach Quinto has the toughest job in the film. Not only does he have to play a more emotionally conflicted Spock, he has to do it up against the actual Spock. Taking on a legendary character is one thing but doing so while the original actor is in that same character has to be terrifying, but Quinto is perfect. He even has the vocal mannerisms down pat, despite lacking the timber Leonard Nimoy adds to words like "fascinating."

Karl Urban has never left much of an impression on me other than "hey, it's that guy." But he resurrects the great DeForrest Kelly and gives us Dr. McCoy anew. He's older, been beaten down by life, and Starfleet is his only recourse. His banter with both Kirk and Spock is classic and I can't wait to see this trio continue.

The other actors do what they can, but they're limited in this installment. My one major beef is that Scotty shows up over an hour into the film and he's barely given enough time to breathe. That being said, when he's on screen he kills and the way he fits into this universe is perfect. Of course, the only question regarding Simon Pegg as how funny he would make Scotty and the answer is "very." Oh, and of course he uses one of Scotty's catch-phrases at exactly the right moment.

Despite a few things worth nitpicking (the entire sequence on the ice planet, for starters, may as well have been labeled "insert exposition sequences here") this film is so filled with goodies for movie lovers that it is worth seeing again and again. I haven't even spoken about the villain (who is functional but not memorable), or the references to past "Star Trek" lore, or the way there is no sound in space, or the genius of the entire space diving sequence, or the way this film fundamentally changes the universe and keeps going at the end.

They finally did it. They finally made a "Star Trek" film the eshews the problems that plagued the various shows. They finally made a "Star Trek" with an insane budget where every cent appears on screen. They finally made a "Star Trek" that my non-Trek fan wife can't wait to see a second time. The finally made a "Star Trek" with real danger and real consequences that pulls no punches and sets the stage where anything is possible.

They finally made a "Star Trek" for everyone and it is GLORIOUS.