Long Absences, A Baby, and The Jets

Why don't I just start a new blog? Perhaps I'm finding myself partial to this one. So, months have passed. I now have a bouncing baby boy, over two months old now (nine weeks today). Alexander Sebastian Desmond-Stein has 30 letters to his name and sleeps in the same room with my wife and I, because we live in an apartment in Manhattan with only two rooms, and one of those contains a kitchen.

So the season is turning to Christmas, and we're heading overseas to see the English Inlaws soon. I have a ton of games I haven't played, and some freelance pitching to do, and a novel to finish, and people to say hi to, and weight to lose.

I am following the Jets, as in the New York Jets, who are usually some emotional analog to my mood. They're as roller-coastery as ever this year, which makes me think that anything's possible. Though after dropping two sad games after a mid-season run of greatness, they're starting to remind me of Flowers For Algernon. After incredible growth, they may just be atrophying before our eyes, only to be the way they always were. Oh, sad Algie. Brett Favre has that mopey look in his eyes, and suddenly I don't know if we're on a magic carpet ride or sad boat trip to Staten Island in the rain.