Wishing on the same bright star

Today at 7:31 pm: Aiming ten feet high and missing.

November fifteenth was supposed to be my D-Day, instead I've got an extension till Monday. I'm worried a bit. I had always hoped that my first novel would be something life changing, something that said what I wanted to say to the world, something that represented me. I was hoping for an auto-biography or a memoir but to be honest, it's much harder to write a memoir than a fictional work. You gotta be an engaging story teller to write a good memoir, which I'm not. Plus, I don't think my life up to this point has warranted a memoir. Maybe next year.

During my most recent trip to New York, we hit upon the idea of titling personal stories like Bible verses. For example, "Jon 3:14" might be the tale of how a three year old George would bring me my slippers during our childhood visits with each other -- we lived in different cities for awhile. The beauty of this system is that if you've heard a story over and over, you can just exit and not miss a thing. "Oh, it's George 6:2, I've heard this one a million times. I'm going to get a drink." Convenient no?

When this book is finally done -- this is just the first draft -- I think it'll be as close as I get to fatherhood for awhile. It's 100% my words, it's (sort of) my idea, it's anything I want it to be. I'd also have been working on it for almost exactly nine months by the time it's finalized. To make an analogy, I think I'm in the second trimester now. I've just seen the sonogram and I'm worried that the kid will be misshapen and ugly. Will it have a face that only a mother can love? I sure hope not because I'm banking on this thing being very popular with the masses.

Joelle. Isaiah. Ethan. Aubrey. Sage. Nathaniel. These are the names of children my friends have brought into this world. The list is going to grow pretty quickly I'm sure. Notice there's no "Jonathan" yet, but there's still plenty of time. I'll sign your baby's butt if you name your firstborn after me. Exclusive offer.

There was a time when I wished for twenty children. I wanted to have a big house, a wall-sized white board to organize everyone's activities, and make the kids march down for breakfast together every morning. I also wanted Captain Von Trapp's whistle. Tweet tweet. As a teenager, I had read an article about Pat Williams, then general manager of the Orlando Magic. Pat and his wife had 19 children, 14 of whom were adopted from various countries. It was inspiring.

Then reality, economics, and life kicked in. My worst fear nowadays is to father a child. Can you imagine? I think Child Protective Services would just take "it" away at the hospital. Preemptive strike.

I've been blog surfing tonight and catching up on Eric's adventures in parenting. Reading his words is enough to make anyone feel the sheer joy (however derivative) of having kids -- check out the blog Eric and Anna are doing for Isaiah and Ethan, it's such an awesome idea.

I envy the family life that exists out in Michigan. Everyone we know there hangs out together. They go fishing, they have bible studies, they have sports leagues, they have family (in all senses of the word). My West Coast friends are at a different stage in our lives. But when we hit that stage -- the one with wives, husbands, and families -- I wonder if we'll hang out together. Maybe we can fly Eric and Anna out for a seminar when that time comes.

I think I may eventually have to resort to borrowing a kid, sort of like in Hornby's "About A Boy", in order to crash family gatherings. Where's the nearest rent-a-child facility located? Do I just pick one out at the local Gymboree?