Three New Family Members

I'll make this quick (for reasons that will soon become clear): About six weeks ago, we welcomed three new members into our family.

Two of them are the identical twin boys with whom we had been pregnant for the past several months. Yes, you read that correctly--we had twins AGAIN. No, it does not run in the family; we're just lucky (ha ha). Here are the facts:

Baby	Name	Time	Weight	Length
A	Christian James	12:26 PM	6 lbs, 11 oz	19 3/4 inches
B	Gabriel ("Gabe") Joseph	12:27 PM	6 lbs	18 1/2 inches

And yes, you read that correctly too: Even though they're identical twins, one was over an inch longer and nearly a pound heavier than the other at birth. (That trend is ongoing, by the way; Christian continues to be noticeably larger than his brother.)

Gabriel and Christian Bourdier

Christian and Gabe, like their sisters, arrived a little earlier than expected. Unlike their sisters, however, Christian and Gabe had some health problems--namely, hypoglycemia, apnea, and bradycardia--which required them to spend several days in the NICU. Once these issues were resolved, Christian and Gabe were welcomed home by their grateful parents and adoring older sisters.

As I likened my first experience with newborn children to open water swimming, I liken this one to bicycle riding: you never really forget how to do it. The feed-sleep-diaper cycle is about the same as I remember it, although many aspects of this experience are not the same, the most significant of course being the two four-year-olds we also have to take care of (and in case you're wondering what that's like, it's every bit as maddening as you might imagine). Hence, the ever-increasing scarcity of time mentioned earlier.

The new Bourdier-mobile

So who is the third new member of the family? That would be the Honda Odyssey minivan that we purchased just days before Christian and Gabe were delivered. Why did we decide to purchase a new vehicle so suddenly? We discovered that it was simply not possible to fit the car seats needed for two four-year-olds and two newborns (plus a stroller) in the vehicle that we had. So here we are, suburbanites with a minivan and a house full of kids. I guess this makes us an official American family. (It also makes us crazy... and tired... and apathetic... and much more appreciative of alcohol than we ever were before.)

Two Funerals, a Move, and a Job Change

In my typical style of holding everything in until it can no longer be contained and comes bursting out all at once, I hereby break my blog silence with several recent news items. I'll start with the sad ones.

"Granny" with Cate and Emma

In April of this year, my last living grandparent, Irma Bourdier (my paternal grandmother--"Granny," as she was known to us grandkids), died at age 92. She had suffered a cerebral hemorrhage (something similar to a stroke) a few weeks prior and was essentially bedbound thereafter, but from what I'm told, generally comfortable and in good spirits. I'm very grateful that she got to meet my children before she passed away.

Magnum Bourdier (1999 - 2016)
He lived; he loved; he lapped up lots of leche.

More recently (mid-July), my last living pet, Magnum, died after a long battle with what started as IBD and developed into lymphoma. He appeared to have IBD for at least a few years before it developed into lymphoma, and it was kept relatively stable with minimal medication, but over the last several months, he suffered a fairly rapid decline during which he lost his appetite (and consequently, a lot of weight), desisted using the litter box consistently, and spent most of his time in hiding. At last count, he was on seven medications, most of which didn't seem to be having any measurable effect on his condition. He was affectionate and energetic (such as he could be) unto the last, which didn't make parting with him any easier, but at least now he suffers no more.

Le nouveau château Bourdier

Rewind about a year... We finally made the inevitable move out to the suburbs last summer (July 2015), for probably the typical reasons: bigger house and yard (but lower house note), less crime, better schools, etc. Our particular suburb of choice was the master planned community of Riverstone in Sugar Land, mostly because of its proximity to Sara's family. While the house hunting experience alone may warrant its own blog post, I'll sum it up by saying that the house we chose (out of the twenty or so that we looked at) was the only one with which Sara and I were both impressed from the beginning. In addition to the mutually agreeable floor plan, amenities, and upgrades, we noticed a TV stand, some couch cushions, and a vase of fake flowers--all identical to items in our own home. In other words, it came about as close to calling our name as an inanimate object can. How could we resist?

Finally, in a somewhat related development, in March of this year, I began a new job with Frontier Communications. A big selling point of this job (and one of the biggest differences from previous jobs) was that it is 100% remote--I work from home pretty much all the time. This job change engendered a number of other vicissitudes in addition to this, most of which will probably be of interest only to my geekier readers. It represents a departure from the pipeline industry (after more than nine years), a shift back towards hardcore software development (which my last job had noticeably drifted away from), and a focusing in on what have essentially become my core technologies of expertise: C# and PL/SQL. It also represents a departure from ESRI--ArcObjects, in particular--which is rare for a GIS developer these days. (At Frontier, such functionality is mostly supplanted by Oracle Spatial.) So far, it's a very promising and enjoyable gig, with which I look forward to at least a comparable streak of longevity.

Happy Terry Bourdier Day!

Terry Bourdier was my dad. He passed away two years ago. Sixty-nine years ago today, he was born. Twenty-some-odd years ago, thanks to him, so was the clothes-folding hat.

Sorting and folding the laundry was a family activity in our home from about as early as I can remember. On one such occasion, whether in a seemly attempt to liven up this mundane chore, or because he was simply being his risible self, my dad put a pair of underwear on his head, announced that it was his "clothes-folding hat," and invited the rest of us to don clothes-folding hats of our own.

As anyone who knows me will attest, I tend to come off as a rather serious person. This distinctive character trait of mine was, if anything, even truer of me as a child. This being the case, to no one’s great surprise, I was the only family member who chose not to participate in the wearing of the clothes-folding hats.

Emma and Cate honor their "Pappy" by wearing clothes-folding hats.

But I couldn’t let it go at that. Why it mattered to me at the time, I couldn’t tell you now, but apparently I was so offended at the clothes-folding hats that I felt I had to speak out. I don’t remember what exactly I said, but the consensus of those present is that it was something like this: "I refuse to fold another garment until everyone takes that ridiculous underwear off their heads!"

Also not surprisingly, this little outburst of mine was at least as entertaining to my family as was my dad’s goofy idea that had inspired it in the first place.

Years later, something made me think of that incident. I asked my dad if he remembered it. He certainly did, and in fact, it was one of his favorite stories to tell. I have to admit it has become one of mine as well.

So this year on his birthday, since, sadly, my girls cannot know him, I thought it fitting to pay him tribute by passing down the clothes-folding hat legacy to the next generation. I think that "Pappy," as they would have known him, would approve. Happy birthday, Dad!

The Babies Have Arrived

On Thursday, March 20th, I became a father--a week ahead of schedule.

For those with whom I have been out of touch (by last count, approximately everyone): In late July, after a challenging journey to conception, Sara and I finally became pregnant with two baby girls. It was now official: we were going to be parents. Books were purchased, classes were taken, gift registries were created, our guest bedroom began its yet-to-be-completed conversion to a nursery, and eventually, a planned C-section was scheduled for March 27th.

The pregnancy seemed to be going unusually well, until about two weeks before the delivery date. Sara began to show mild symptoms of preeclampsia, but her blood pressure (the important symptom) was fine, so we were not terribly concerned. On March 20th (a week before delivery), she reported to her doctor for a routine visit. Although her blood pressure was still fine, her doctor was concerned about her other symptoms. The delivery was rescheduled for March 25th, and Sara was admitted to the hospital so that her symptoms could be monitored over the next 24 hours. If they got no worse, then she would be released, and we would merely have our children two days early.

Alas, it was not to be. Before leaving work that afternoon, I received news of an unexpected development: Sara's blood pressure was on the rise. I was to be kept posted. I hadn't been home from work for more than ten minutes when I got a call from her mom: blood pressure was dangerously high, delivery had been rescheduled for that evening, and I should make haste in getting myself to the hospital. I hurriedly packed overnight bags for both of us and drove to the hospital in silence, preparing myself for what I was about to experience. We were not ready--so much was still not done!--but it was happening, and I had to be up to it.

Upon arrival at the hospital, Sara and I were whisked off to the operating room for the now-emergency C-section, which went surprisingly quickly. Within an hour, I was holding one of my brand new baby girls. I know people ask about these things, so here are the birth facts:

Baby	Name	Time	Weight	Length
A	Cate Elizabeth	7:16 PM	5 lbs, 7 oz	18 3/4 inches
B	Emma Celeste	7:17 PM	5 lbs, 4 oz	19 inches

Now that I'm a father, I feel like I should have something profound to say about the experience--and maybe I will someday. For now, I'm just getting used to the feed-sleep-diaper cycle that continues around the clock, and doing my best to put into practice everything I've read and been taught in our classes. One new thing I've learned already: Daddy, no matter how hard he tries, is simply not Mommy, and therefore cannot expect the child to react the same way. Sometimes they just need Mommy.

Emma and Cate Bourdier (respectively)

I liken my entry into fatherhood to swimming in open water for the first time. It can be intimidating--especially for someone (like myself) who is not a great swimmer to begin with--and a number of questions arise: "That water looks deep. Will I be able to stay afloat and swim, or will I sink?" "The water is supposed to be cold. Will I just be freezing and miserable the whole time?" And in fact, parenthood can be a little jarring at first, and it does take some effort to stay afloat. But just like the water, you get used to it quickly, and it's not nearly as hard to stay afloat and swim as you thought it would be.

And so I swim. I change diapers. I assist with feeding as needed. I dress, hold, swaddle, comfort, and build up a tolerance for the screams of my sometimes inconsolable babies. I lie down in bed and barely drift off to sleep before being awakened by yet another cry, and then I get myself up and do it all over again. It is not always fun or easy, but everyone tells me it's worth it.

And for me, so far, it is.

Vegas, Baby!

From all accounts, there are few more exciting places to spend New Year's Eve than Las Vegas. So naturally, when Sara and I decided that this city would be our next vacation destination, we opted to skip the excitement and get there on New Year's Day. Not surprisingly, the party had not altogether ended.

My "boarding pass" for the Titanic exhibit,
with a real passenger's information on it. The
fate of each passenger was listed at the end
so we could see if we survived. (I didn't.)

In fact, I don't think the party ever really ends in Las Vegas, but I'd still say we picked a good time to go. We stayed at the Mirage, on the famous strip, where most of our activities took place. Anyone who has been to Vegas knows all about the huge, opulent hotels on the strip, with their casinos, restaurants, malls, shows and other attractions--so I'll dispense with detailed descriptions and just talk about what we did there.

Las Vegas is not the place to visit if you are poor--even if you don't gamble. Nothing in Las Vegas is cheap, from the spectacular shows to the most meager of meals. This became real to me on Day One, when we figured we would save a little money by having breakfast at one of the little cafes in our hotel, rather than spend the $30+ on the breakfast buffet. For a breakfast burrito, a small bowl of fruit, a muffin, a coffee, an orange juice, and a cup of milk, the grand total came to just over $30. So much for saving money. Most of this day was spent exploring the expansive hotels along the strip. That night, we saw VEGAS! The Show--a sort of tribute to the Vegas of the past (mostly impressions of entertainers who had famously performed there).

One of the more interesting and better-
preserved signs at the Neon Museum

Day Two began with an adventure, as we had set our minds on having breakfast at this particular "healthy" restaurant in the Venetian. It took us an hour just to find the place! (You have to find the one magic elevator that stops on the third floor.) We saw the Titanic exhibit at the Luxor, commemorating the 100-year anniversary of the ship, which was quite enjoyable. In addition to the artifacts--dishes, personal items, pieces of the ship, etc.--that had been salvaged from the wreck, various rooms of the museum had been constructed to resemble different areas of the ship, and plaques on the walls told the story of the ill-fated voyage in fascinating detail. (It seems the disaster might have been averted if only the lookout had had a pair of binoculars.) We also visited the CBS Television City Research Center, where we screened a potential new sitcom called Friend Me. (I could see it going one season.) The main event that night was David Copperfield, whom I thoroughly enjoyed, not just for his magic tricks, but for his quick-witted sense of humor. Definitely worth the price of admission.

Sign at the Neon Museum with an interesting history: second
hotel to open on the strip, first place Elvis performed
in Vegas, and three name changes (Last Frontier,
New Frontier, Frontier, then back to New Frontier)

On Day Three, we bit the bullet and forked over the $30+ for the breakfast buffet. The variety was nice, but the food itself was nothing special. We finally ventured off the strip to the Neon Museum, "where neon signs go to die." This guided tour turned out to be pretty neat, as it included a lot of Vegas history--much of which was apparently also known by a young boy on the tour whom I mentally nicknamed Vegas-pedia, who kept feeling the need to show off his knowledge by interrupting the tour guide with dates, names, and other information that may or may not have been relevant. (Even the tour guide, amused and seemingly impressed at first, eventually became annoyed with Vegas-pedia.) We then conducted a brief exploration of Fremont Street and returned to the strip. The grand finale that night was the Cirque du Soleil show LOVE, featuring the music of The Beatles.

So what is my impression of Vegas? It's a fun place to visit--once. I don't see myself going back, but I'm glad to have been.

Lost Songs of the 80s

It's not often that I indulge in pure, self-interested nostalgia... but this is one of those times. As a musician and a child of the '80s, it should come as no surprise that I retain as much of the music from that era as I do. Even so, I'm often amazed at how much of it I seem to be the only one who remembers! As a tribute to this "lost" music, here is a brief list of the top five songs from the eighties that no one seems to remember but me.

5. Summer of Love - Jefferson Airplane, 1989
   It may have been ten years before I was even born when the actual Summer of Love took place, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate a song about it. Despite the 1989 reunion of Jefferson Airplane having been called the "most unwelcome comeback of the year" by Rolling Stone, I remember this song being all over the radio that summer. I didn't know the artist at the time, but I recognized Grace Slick's voice and mistakenly thought it to be Starship, though I could never find a recording of the song under that name. Years later, I heard it in a grocery store and remembered the unsolved mystery, which was put to bed that very evening by a quick web search. I love the Internet.

4. My Brave Face - Paul McCartney, 1989
   Even Sir Paul seems to have forgotten this song. It's not on any of his greatest hits albums (I've checked). This is another one that I remember getting lots of air play in summer of '89. Not only did I not know the artist of this one, but for years I didn't even know the name. My brother and I variously misheard it as "My Great Place" and "My Baby." Ah, the mysteries Google can solve.

3. The Different Story (World of Lust and Crime) - Peter Schilling, 1988
   You may know Peter Schilling of Major Tom fame. This song was not nearly as popular, but is a much better song IMHO. Another one that I for searched for for years without knowing the artist.

2. Video Romeo - Kidd Video, 1984
   I remember seeing this video at the end of a Saturday morning cartoon once, but did not remember the show. When I discovered what it was, I laughed hysterically. I still don't remember watching the actual show, but the fact that this video was my main take-away from it tells me that it's probably not worth remembering.

1. AEIOU, Sometimes Y - Ebn-Ozn, 1983
   This song has the distinction of being the only one on the list whose artist I knew from the time I heard it. I saw the video once (and never again) on MTV, and for years afterward searched (without success) for a recording of this song. I once met someone else who actually recognized it. Upon hearing it, he said, "Oh yeah, this is that 'A-B-C-D-E-F-G' song." Yep, that's the one.

Four Days in “Paradise”

The southernmost region of the Baja California Peninsula, commonly known as Los Cabos, is known to the locals as Paradise--at least, that’s what they told us. Sara and I recently celebrated our one-year wedding anniversary at this locale, and indeed, it has a lot going for it: good weather, luxurious resorts, and beautiful beaches--if only you could get in the water!

The lobby of our hotel

But I’ll get back to that. First, a little about where we stayed: Secrets Marquis Los Cabos. We had stayed at a Secrets resort before (Secrets Capri Riviera Cancun) and had had a mostly positive experience, so we were optimistic about this one, and were not disappointed.

Among the architectural features of this resort were the huge, open-air archway that served as the lobby, and the so-called infinity pool, by which we spent most of our time lounging on deck chairs, and which might have been designed such that, when observed from this vantage, almost appeared to be part of the ocean. The staff was incredibly nice, and we never had to wait too long for someone to come by and offer us a drink or some food.

The "infinity" pool

Speaking of, the food, while not spectacular, was not bad. Breakfast was the typical fare (bacon, eggs, etc.) plus refried beans and chilaquiles, which I helped myself to copiously. There was a limited menu for lunch and dinner every day, and sometimes a special/fancy dinner menu was available. There was supposedly a dress code for dinner that prohibited shorts and flip-flops (which I was unprepared for, as I had packed nothing else to wear), which apparently was not enforced, because they still let me eat. Whew.

The resort had several activities planned throughout each day--poorly attended, from what I could tell. They ranged from games (like beach volleyball) to entertainment (usually a singer/guitarist). Only twice did we participate; once for a short massage lesson, and once for Mexican Night, which featured a "traditional Mexican" dinner with "traditional Mexican" dancing. (Just how "traditional" or "Mexican" the dancing was, I’m not sure--there were elaborate costumes and a lot of hollering--but it was entertaining.)

The Arch is to Cabo what The Eiffel Tower is to Paris:
It's what everyone has to have their picture
taken in front of to prove they were there.

Only once did we venture off-campus for a short day trip to Cabo San Lucas. It was not off to the best start--the van was half an hour late, and our names were not on the list, although the driver let us board anyway--but turned out to be a fun little excursion. We were dropped at the marina, where we rode a glass-bottom boat to Land’s End, the very tip of the peninsula, home to the famous Arch (El Arco) and a swath of lovely beach.

After frolicking about on the beach for a bit, we rode the boat back to the marina and explored the city. Among its attractions (in fact, probably the most noteworthy thing we saw there) was the Cabo Wabo Cantina, founded by none other than Sammy "I Can't Drive 55" Hagar. It mostly had the appearance of a typical cantina, other than being decorated with lots of pictures of Sammy in his various bands and other Red Rocker memorabilia, which alone made it worth the visit.

Sign outside the Cabo Wabo

Apart from this little adventure, a visit to the spa for massages, and lazing about by the pool, our main recreational activity was walking along the surprisingly deserted beach. As I have said, swimming was discouraged, due to the strong riptides, but I at least would have expected to see people out sunbathing, picnicking, or just generally cavorting. Nope. We generally had the gorgeous seaside all to ourselves.

Turned out there were a few beaches at which it was safe to swim, including a tiny one called Melia within walking distance of our hotel. I had entertained thoughts of swimming there, but was ultimately deterred by the cold water temperature and windy conditions, which made the sea uncomfortably rough. Thus, we contented ourselves with the simple enjoyment of casting our eyes upon this remarkable seascape while strolling through the refreshing surf.

All in all, quite a pleasant little jaunt. I would highly recommend the place, especially if you’re the kind who prefers looking at the beach to getting in the water. Paradise? Maybe not exactly… but pretty darn close.