But before that,

We lived in Silver Spring when the sniper was shooting people in gas stations. I remember putting gas in the car and looking around, wondering if the next one was going to be me or the guy pretending not to hunch down next to me. It reminded me of that movie, Little Murders (look it up, you know? Okay. Here's the trailer). But there was nothing funny about it. And as traumatic as it was, I can't feel good about the guy dying today. I can't feel too bad about it either.

Months of practice have finally paid off today: Baby told his mother he loved her.

I'm trying to take it easy. Trying to find reasons to be stressful, then kill them dead. Things have to change.

I shaved my beard. I do it every once in a while. I like to play games when I do that. First I turned it into a goatee. Then I kept on shaving and made it a douchy goatee (the shorter, straighter version), then I made it into a big bushy mustache. And then--am I alone there?--I turned it into a Hitler. Come on! Everyone Hitlerizes themselves when they shave, no?

Game Changer is a girl. Here's a secret: I was hoping it would be.

that I started a blog recently. Well, it's been more than a year.

Here's the story:

I wanted to register a domain name, thinking I'd just start a niche blog and put some content, then see where I went from there. Maybe sell it. And even though it wasn't going to be a real blog like this one, I wanted to be able to update it every once in a while, so it had to be about something I knew a little about. I was a new father, so I thought I'd write about being a father.

And if it wasn't going to be a real blog, then of course I didn't write about it here, because What's the point?

So I started a blog with a silly name, where I talked about other fathers who blog, and about the things we all have in common, and about the meaning of fatherhood, at least the way I saw it, and about being a Stay-At-Home-Dad in a society that does me a favor and "accepts" me, and before I knew it, it wasn't a fake blog anymore. As much as I tried, I couldn't be cynical about it.

And I was slowly being added to parents' blogrolls, then asked to write a few guest posts in a Baltimore Sun parenting blog, then mentioned briefly on NPR...

And then I thought, Is People in the Sun the fake blog? But it's not, because I let myself go here. I even allow myself to say bad words here, like VAGINA.

Some of you may have actually been there. Well, some of you have been there. My Statcounter told me you were there. And some of you even left comments there, which made me feel weird because I felt I was cheating you with my dual-personality.

And then I felt it was too late to mention it here. And the longer I waited, the worst I felt. It's like coming over to your wife and telling her you've had Herpes for a year and you didn't want to tell her because you didn't want her to know you cheated on her with a crack whore a year ago. See why people come here? It's the metaphors.

So here it is. My own Daddy Blog. Come over and say Hi, and I hope you stay around. I will keep this blog, of course, and my other super-secret blogs, as long as I have something to say. And you know the drill: when I don't have anything to say, you can always count on cute baby pictures.

On the one hand, What's the point of putting up a picture of my baby hugging another kid? See, I wanted to make this blog about... well, everything I say may sounds presumptuous... But even when writing about myself, I never intended this blog to be about me. Makes sense?

When writing about my army days, I wanted to talk about the way soldiers don't really know what they're doing; about the way none of us do, even when we're given a large responsibility over life and death.

When I talked about my dogs, I wanted to show Pit Bulls in a positive light, because these dogs are not just pretty faces. These dogs will stick by you and give their lives if you just ask, no matter what, which is part of their tragic story.

When I talked about my time in London, what I really talked about was the way people move around the world only to discover that mirrors look the same everywhere.

When I talked about Honey, I tried to convey a sense of priorities I believe in, where love is the most important thing we'll experience in our lives. As for what happens after that--

When I talked about religion, I tried to connect with all other Atheists who struggle because they know How but will never now Why.

When I talked about politics, I wanted to show this word matters, and that we can't ignore politics simply because it's so convenient to do so. I wanted to talk about people who die for nothing in Iraq and in Palestine and in Israel. And I wanted to talk about people who live for nothing elsewhere.

When I talked about looking for a job and then about working in a jail, I wanted to talk about--

Well, I wanted to talk about myself, but also about them, and about you. This whole blog was meant to be about us, you know what I mean?

But then I go to the Science Museum with my friend from the Stay-At-Home-Dads group, the sexiest group in town, by the way, and our kids start hugging in each other, and there's no fucking way this stays out of the blog.

So, like I said, on the one hand, What's the point of putting up these pictures?

But on the other hand, some of you may have been here with me for a long time. You were here when I made the announcement. You were here when I couldn't wait. You were here when he was born. And you even stayed around when he got cuter. And now you're here, waiting with me for the Game Changer. And even though the posts that involve a cute baby doing cute stuff seem to say nothing about the human condition and about the tragedy/comedy of humanity, there's still something there.

There's no point to this post. A point would mean there's a greater truth to be found beyond these photos. But at least today, there is none. It's just a few photos, taken in a Science Museum, of two little kids, hugging.

After those last two posts, one where I made a big announcement and one that talked about pools of blood, I think I'm allowed to relax here. It's Wednesday, after all.

If you go to this site, you can do a makeover! Here's Caillou:

Here's Caillou with a Kate Gosselin.



And a Katie Holmes.



Rihanna.


And another thing! Facebook quizzes. I understand if you're at work and you're waiting for the printer to finish getting your annual CGID/4B-B report out, so you spend a couple of minutes answering some questions on a Facebook quiz, but other than that, there's no excuse.

It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. It takes all kinds. Sometimes I forget that.

Honestly, I didn't even know there was a gay rights march. Whoever was supposed to tell me is fired. But here's a year-old photo of a man and a baby in a Baltimore gay rights protest, just so you know I'm indoctrinating my innocent baby into this absurd idea that everyone should be able to get married:




And another thing!

Naa. That's enough for now. There will be more meaningful posts later, maybe they will include the thoughts of a man coming to terms with the Game Changer coming his way.

It's all good.

So this happened on Tuesday. It was getting late, and things around here were winding down. Honey was about to put the baby to sleep, then go upstairs. I was getting ready to go online and tell people they're stupid and racist. But Buddy was crying downstairs, so I went to check on him.

It's not that rare that this crazy dog cries. He's very attached to his toy, and if anyone else accidentally touches it and makes it squeak, Buddy will grab it, lay it down on his cushion, and cry for hours. But I went to check, just to make sure.

There was a puddle of blood on the kitchen floor.

Buddy had gone outside to pee more than usual, I remembered, and he actually puked a little an hour earlier, which also wasn't a big deal (considering his age and the fact that the baby pretty much shares his meals with him). But he never peed blood before.

In the car, on the way to the vet, I sang songs about a dog named Buddy who was a very good boy. I told him that I expected him to live for at least 3 to 4 more years. Then I corrected myself and said, "Let's make it two. I just... I want Liam to remember you..." And I cried and I cried...

So the vet quickly examines him, takes a sample of the blood he left on the floor in her office, and then she has a talk with me. I'm sitting down.

If it happened to a female dog, it would most likely have been a urinary tract infection. But it was very rare for males. Still, it was a possibility. But it could be a kidney stone. Or cancer. They were going to do x-rays and blood work and many other tests and rule out stuff and they would let me know what was going on as soon as possible.

So I was pacing and pacing in the waiting room, and then I was calm enough to start watching "Hawthorne," a medical drama series on TNT, starring Jada Pinkett Smith. Did you know hospital workers work very long hours? They mentioned that there. And there's romance between the doctors and the nurses, and power plays. It was painful. It had every medical drama cliché we've seen on every medical drama series, only with worse acting. I peeked into the treatment area. Nothing.

Then "Saving Grace" started. It's a police drama starring Holly Hunter. There was a body in the freezer, but it was just a prank! Cops work very long hours, and they fall in love with each other, and they often take their work home with them! But to diffuse the tension, they pull pranks on each other too. The vet came outside only to thank me for being patient. No news yet.

Then another "Hawthorne." This was actually a repeat of the one they showed an hour earlier. But I watched it again anyway. How can the doctor not know she's in love with him? Why do people play games like that? Where the fuck was my dog?

And then the vet came back and told me that the bad things had been ruled out, and that even though a urinary tract infection was rare for males, his old age means that's likely what it was.

And was I overcome with joy? See, that's the kind of person I am: I hear these great news and all I can think is, "I can't believe you made me watch this shit. Twice!"