Powered by Twitter Tools

Powered by Twitter Tools

Powered by Twitter Tools

Unfortunately, the Undead stagger carefully around the Copywriter Underground/Soiled Diaper World Headquarters these days, what with the Still Uncompleted Construction Project turning every available space into a deadly obstacle course (if it’s one thing zombies don’t do well, it’s hurdle).

In fact, I’m designating this Day 40 of the Underground Home Hostage Crisis – an acknowledgement that an extremist contractor splinter group has apparently seized control of our house, demanding bags of money or they’ll start killing rooms.

They’ve done enough damage to convince us they really mean it.

Still, these aren’t your average Working-Class Extremists – they apparently prefer to terrorize lazily from a distance. At least that’s the conclusion you’d have to draw since we haven’t actually seen a cell member all week long.

My wife is reacting to all this with the kind of grace you’d expect from an Ivy League educated brainiac new-mom type, which is to say she’s threatening to go all Chuck Norris on the contractors for not finishing the project when they first promised – five weeks ago and “for sure” before we returned from our trip to Ethiopia.

In fact, when calling the lead contractor, she casually mentioned that “Nothing says ‘Welcome to your new home’ to a baby like the severed heads of contractors mounted above the front door.”

(Moral of Story: Don’t Mess with a New Mommie)

(Truth in Copy Disclosure: She didn’t actually say “severed” but drama demanded I add it. Sorry.)

So to summarize:

• Me = The Undead
• House = Hostage Site/Nuclear Blast Zone
• Spouse = Chuck Norris Would Be Proud
• Little M (new baby) = Burbling happily away in the corner
• Spare Time = None

The New Writing Life

I’m working feverishly on a big Web site project, and while I’m happy for the work, sizable changes lie before me.

My regular work routine – honed over two decades of mucking around in this business – is now mostly a fantasy, and the accommodations are flying thick and fast.

You write when you can, and look carefully at the things you formerly had time for, but now seem less important.

Keep writing (and avoid zombies whenever possible), Tom Chandler

See you (other zombies) on the River, Tom Chandler.

Powered by Twitter Tools

Powered by Twitter Tools

Either way, kudos to Scott Baradell (though we’re thinking “gossip” is wholly underrepresented).

Powered by Twitter Tools

In other words, if you want to grow, you sometimes need to make uncomfortable, life-altering choices.

Like that day in college when I realized words were cool things, and perhaps I could make a living arranging them for people.

Or the decades-later realization that my clients had email addresses, so maybe I could live near a good trout stream instead of the alternate universe known as the Silicon Valley.

Then there was the afternoon I realized life with a certain woman looked a more appealing than life without her, and that it was time to make this whole thing permanent.

Every one of those decisions seemed huge at the time – and each created its fair share of anxiety – but all worked out beautifully.

Time to pick up another brick.

Soon, my wife and I are saddling up a Boeing 777 jet and flying literally halfway around the world to meet our little daughter.

Our new little daughter.

Holy shit.

I’m about to become a parent.

The New Reality

And yes, since this process began over a year ago, I have often huddled in bed at 3:30 in the morning, eyes wide open, mentally bulleting the ways I could emotionally (and physically) scar a kid already facing the challenges of adoption.

The good news? While adoption rules forbid me from posting her picture or name here, the pictures we’ve seen clearly indicate Little M (my clever code name) is cuter, smarter and just plain better than all the other kids on the planet.

In fact, it’s likely she’s a world-class athlete, a brilliant chessplayer, and a natural-born fly fisherman.

I just know it.

You can tell by looking. Plain as day.

(And yes – I already have the whole Proud Poppa thing down pat.)

The Parent Trap

I suspect I’m not entirely alone in this, but as parent-to-be, I’m already excellent at cycling between excitement and sheer terror.

One minute I’m convinced I’m going to be a great dad, teaching my daughter all the really cool, important stuff while driving her to her next athletic triumph (track/tennis/soccer/etc – I’m easy).

The next minute I imagine falling prey to one of my absent-minded fogs, forgetting to feed my daughter, wandering off, then coming home to find her swilling drain cleaner from the bottle I left on the floor next to the gasoline-soaked rags piled on the accidentally left-on stove.

Clearly, anticipation is a two-edged sword.

Stepping beyond the glass window that defines the limits of your “normal” life means picking up a brick and creating a little chaos.

You throw the brick, life changes, and then you sweep up the broken glass – and notice the view is clearer, plus you’ve got more room to grow than before.

Things may be challenging for a while, but you remember that’s the way things are supposed to be, and you can’t really complain.

I mean, it’s what you asked for when you picked up the brick in the first place.

Keep writing, Tom Chandler.

Powered by Twitter Tools