Three becomes four

As it is told, first came a plant. It is never discussed what kind of plant, but no doubt it was something resilient and low-maintenance. When the plant lived, fish came next. Fish are a bit trickier to keep alive — there are hidden signs you have to find — but they, too, failed to die. A leap forward was made, and a dog was brought into the house. The dog bonded to them, made its needs known, and was satisfied. They had passed the test and could now fulfill the apex of the caregiving pyramid. My sister was the result. A few years later they refined their process, and there I was. At least that’s how the story goes.

I never did meet that dog. And the fish went to Dad’s office. But two more responsible parents you are not likely to meet. Certainly not around here — now.

I guess for Harmony and me we’ll say it started with a boat. Before marriage, before the cat, before we were even engaged, we decided to buy this boat. As far as needy and expensive things go, a boat garners high marks. Under sail it commands all of our attention, and if it feels neglected it will throw a tantrum to interrupt any activity. We learned how to take responsibility together, how to be safe together, how to make a fat fuzzy cat not die of boredom, and we learned that we will put up with a lot of godawful things in order to earn a rewarding experience. I think we can skip the dog.

We’ve got a looker! April Fools! We love you. Don’t hate us.

What you see here is no ink blot, Rorschach, or Mandelbrot butterfly. It won’t tell you what your subconscious is thinking, but it might make you lose your mind.

You wanna see something else crazy?

Bam! That ain’t no  big comida corriente. That’s an oven baking in the tropical heat. Whatever the hazards of bearing a baby on a boat, at least it’s getting a lot of Vitamin D.

Here’s the point: Our little family is growing!

Some of you may be thinking: WHAT?! This is crazy! (Not a question.) Are they crazy?! (Better, thank you.) How long have they known? Was this part of the plan? What on God’s Earth is the plan NOW? (All valid questions.) You’re not really going to sail with that baby are you? If you think living with cat litter in a small space is bad, how will it be with an endless pile of dirty diapers?

You can’t force a plan, that’s one of the bigger lessons of this life. You can say you want to leave one day, but only if there’s wind and if you feel like meeting it. We tell our visiting friends to pick a time or pick a place; you can’t guarantee both. If it wasn’t for friends coming to visit, however, we probably wouldn’t be able to decide which way to sail when we leave port. The funny consequence of having a totally free schedule is that with any decision there are a multitude of perfectly good alternatives. A lot of these decisions you can’t take back either, so you have to choose carefully between too many good things (or in some rare cases too many bad things, but the reality is that it’s usually a choice between a handful of so-so good things). All of this coalesces into a lifestyle woven with hardships yet consisting of few plans and fewer responsibilities beyond those to ourselves.

Well, that’s over now — until 2033.

This kind of puts last week’s post in perspective, eh? Who wants to come home to $25,000 baby bills when there’s a medical system here that’s not as profit-and-liability motivated?