I Watch Lost

Desmond walked out of the tube station, past Charlie, paying him no notice. When it started to rain, Charlie packed up his guitar and ran off. Then he saw the mugging, ran into the alley and chased off the purse snatcher.

As things played out in the version of the events as Desmond relived them after the portal exploded, Desmond saw Charlie, confronted him and delayed him long enough so that he likely never witnessed the mugging.

Now events are falling into place as Desmond predicts them, except that Charlie doesn’t die. Desmond’s flashes of Charlie’s deaths follow his relived version of the events. But due to some twist of causality in the way that things actually played out (or simply due to karma Charlie earned by preventing the mugging), Charlie doesn’t die.

I put my ear to Tricia’s belly to try to find the baby’s heartbeat and the baby started kicking directly onto the spot where I’d put my ear.

Things Change

Tricia showing

Jeff practicing with Ever

Baby kicking

Our boy is due in just over four months. I did some stealth blogging about the pregnancy in November and December, and I’m making those entries visible today.

Critical Shopping

Häagen-Dazs ice cream is on sale. But the selection has already been picked through. The popular flavors are gone. Only a scattering of pints in bland varieties remain: creme brulee, walnut, and two kinds of vanilla. The only chocolate left is in the English Toffee. But there’s a blind spot in the ice cream freezer display where the frame of the door blocks several varieties from view. The impulse shoppers were too quick to notice. These flavors are almost fully stocked. It’s like finding Narnia, except that the forgotten stash of Mint Chocolate Chip isn’t an allegory for Jesus.


I’m shifting books around in my storage unit. I hear the elevator door open down the hallway. The sound of footsteps echoes around the hallway, then the sound of a key being selected from a key ring. A lock is removed, a latch opened , and the garage-style door of one of the storage units is lifted. The visitor makes no sound for about thirty seconds. Then a piano plays. It goes through a complete song, one I don’t know. The final note is followed by a silent beat, then the door closes and the lock goes on. The visitor speaks: “It’s out of tune.” That sentence echoes around the hallway. The elevator doors whisper open and then shut, and it’s quiet again.