Month: August 2007

"A.D." Chapter Six: "Flotsam & Jetsam"

A.D.

In A.D. chapter 6, “Flotsam & Jetsam,” we discover how Denise withstands the hurricane in her apartment. (Answer: just barely.) In addition, we check in with our other characters, including The Doctor and his guests in the French Quarter, Hamid and Mansell at the grocery store in Uptown, Kevin and his family in Tallahassee, and Leo and Michelle in Houston. It is Monday, August 29, 2005, and no one is aware that the levees have been breached.

I worked my butt off to get this new chapter done in time for Katrina’s second anniversary. In fact, to get it done for the Sunday before Katrina’s second anniversary. And it paid off, as the outside world has really begun to pay attention to A.D. In the past week alone, A.D. was featured in:

  • the Toronto Star
  • the Atlanta Journal-Constitution
  • the New Orleans Times-Picayune

    And I was interviewed by NPR and Canada’s CityNews International.

    … with the L.A. Times, the American Prospect, and CityTV WebNation coming soon.

    I can’t say how gratifying it is to know that new eyeballs are coming to the strip just as it’s beginning to hit its stride. Some of the reader comments have really made me proud to be a comics storyteller. I’ll always be able to go back to them for inspiration the next time I’m working 14-hour days, sitting up ’til 3 A.M. nightly to get the next chapter done. Thanks, everyone!

    • Geysers of Pumpkin Sauce

    Uncategorized

    That’s what was coming out of Phoebe’s butt this afternoon in the middle of changing her. It got on everything: her onesie, the cloth covering the diaper pad, the diaper pad itself. And nothing would make it stop. Not multiple wipes, not a new diaper, nor the one after that. In the confusion, Sari slapped a diaper on her, and somehow not only put it on backward but inside-out! Sleep deprivation leads to creative “solutions.”

    In the end, when we put the third diaper on her (properly), the orange stream had slowed down to a trickle. I’m sure that one day epic poems will tell of this poop, but for now this post will have to do.

    Other than that, everything’s going great!

    Phil "Scooter" Rizzuto, dead at 89

    Tribute

    Ex-Yankees player and broadcaster Phil Rizzuto passed away today. I listened to The Scooter during my prime baseball-fan days, as an adolescent, and he shaped my feeling for the game. I loved the way he combined a passion for baseball with a clear awareness that it was just a game, not to be taken too seriously.

    He was known for his distinctive “Holy Cow!” exclamation, and I also loved how he called people “huckleberry.” During his prime as a Yankees broadcaster, he teamed up with classic straight man Bill White. They made a great duo, the wise-cracking, diminutive old Italian-American bantering with the tall, distinguished African-American.

    During broadcasts, Phil would get so involved in anecdotes, stories, or noting fans’ birthdays and anniversaries, that he would forget all about the game. The resulting non-sequitors made for classic TV and radio. And if a summer thunderstorm passed by the Stadium, he would literally run out of the broadcast booth to find shelter!

    Years ago, the Village Voice took a few classic Phil monologues and transcribed them into poetic form. It was pure brilliance. Eventually, Tom Peyer & Hart Seely put together a whole book of his “selected verse.” Here are some of my favorite Rizzuto “poems”:

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    39 and 364

    Uncategorized

    So today is the last day of thirties. I’m trying to spend a little time thinking about that milestone.

    When I was a kid, it seemed that turning 30 meant you were an adult; when my parents were young, turning 20 meant you were an adult. Now it seems increasingly like 40 is the (arbitrary) marking point. But whatever I thought being an “adult” would be, I don’t feel like I’ve achieved it yet!

    I can’t say I’m happy to be turning 40, but I’m more at peace with it than I would have been without Phoebe. After all, I suppose being a parent is a sign of being “grown up.” And she is a pretty amazing early birthday present!

    In other respects, I guess I can look back on my thirties with some measure of pride. I married my lifelong love. I published a book and a number of comics. I established a viable freelance career doing what I love. I’m working on a graphic novel project that I’m passionate about. I bought an apartment. I have many wonderful friends. I’m living in one of the world’s greatest cities. And now I’m a new dad!

    The one thing that boggles my mind is the fact that when my mom was the age I am now, I was already 16 years old! (When Phoebe’s 16, I’ll be 56!) There’s no way I could have imagined being a parent at 24, like she and my dad were. But that was her generation, and this is ours.

    So on to the 40s. Time to come up with some new goals.

    Locked Out

    Uncategorized

    Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at PhotobucketMy first close call as a dad last night. I had swaddled Phoebe and was preparing to put her to bed in her little basinet, which is currently in our bedroom. It was wicked humid and the air conditioner was on in our room, so the door was closed.

    Phoebe in one hand, I tried to open the door with the other. No luck. The knob seemed to be slipping; in any case, it wasn’t opening the door. I put Phoebe down on her changing table and went back to the door. No matter what I tried, however, I couldn’t get the knob to turn the latch. Sari took Phoebe while I spent a good twenty minutes attacking the door. Tightening the knob didn’t work. Loosening the knob didn’t work. Replacing the knob didn’t work. Using a skeleton key on the bolt didn’t work. I even knocked the spindle through to the other side and stuck a whole new knob & spindle through, and that didn’t work either. I was totally flummoxed. I even considered calling a locksmith and had a look their website to see if they would be of any help.

    Finally, I admitted defeat and we all bedded down for the night in Phoebe’s room. Sari took the single bed, Phoebe slept in her car seat, and I put some couch pillows on the floor. We both just kept saying how lucky it was that Phoebe hadn’t been in the room, on the other side, when this happened. I would have had to learn how to break a door down very quickly!

    So we spent the night in splendid discomfort (especially me!), while the AC chugged along in our empty bedroom. I had no clothes to sleep in so Sari lent me something. I looked quite sexy in her big black maternity shirt emblazoned with the words “Got Baby?”

    This morning the super came in, removed the face plate of the lock assembly, pried back the molding, and jimmied open the door.

    Phoebe Feuer Neufeld

    Life

    Thanks to my dad, we got back to the hospital by about 1 a.m. They put Sari back in triage for an initial exam, where we received two big surprises. One was that she was dilated up to 7 centimeters! The other was that her waters hadn’t actually broken. What we thought was her waters breaking in small trickles was actually just some small self-repairing leakage. No matter, though, 7 cm was definitely good reason to have her back at the hospital. They admitted Sari and gave us a labor room (one with a jacuzzi!). And they called Dr. Russell, and said she was coming in.

    Despite Gabriela’s and my best efforts to keep Sari drinking, they found her slightly dehydrated (the barf in the shower probably hadn’t helped), so they hooked her up to an IV, as well as to a fetal monitor. Then we got back to helping her labor.

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