Hey Jakey,

Happy two-month birthday! (You were born eight Sundays ago. At what point do we stop counting Sunday as your birthday and start saying that the 25th is your birthday?)

Big week for you! We took you to San Jose for the week. That's where mom and dad used to live before we moved to Nevada, and where your grandma and grandpa on your dad's side live. It's about five hours away by car, but ever so much longer when you spend half the trip trying to calm down a fussy baby. Daddy recorded the sound of the vacuum sweeper and put it on CD, and that's what we listened to for five whole hours.

I think we brought back a completely different baby then the one we took down there. You must have gained at least 10 pounds, you have so much more hair, and you're acting so grown-up. It's really hard to tuck you under my arm and type with you like I did just last week. Like I said before, baby, you're growing right before our eyes.

Why, oh why did we move? Every material thing your heart desires is available for purchase within a 30-minute radius. You can eat every sort of food imaginable: Thai, Indian, Russian, Greek, Jewish, Mongoloian, Middle Eastern, Vietnamese, at all hours of the day and night. I can go see an art movie, then browse books and CDs at my favorite used book stores, then go grab a falafel salad at Falafel Drive-In. Most of mommy's good friends live there, and I had a good job (at the time I thought it was the worst job on the planet, but I had never worked *here* before... more on that later). I miss it. It's still home to me.

I always say that, but when we drive back to G-ville, over the snow-capped mountains and into our snug little homely valley, I don't regret it too much. We've made a life for ourselves here. We got married here, I started my very first pumpkin garden here, we had YOU here. Whatever. I feel like I have dual citizenship in two completely different countries: Nevada, the untamed wild west where you can't get decent produce but you can get a two-bedroom home with a two-car garage, two full baths and an acre's worth of yard for $690; and the Bay Area, where, although our tiny one-bedroom apartment cost $1100 , I could always get a decent Thai lotus rootlet wrap and a mint tea for lunch. Sigh.

You saw the ocean for the first time this week. We took you to our favorite beach on Wednesday (St. Patrick's Day!). You didn't scream too much, even when the wind started blowing sand in your face. We got some really great pictures, and I managed to look not too terribly gross. There's something to be said about nursing your son in the dunes on a wind-swept beach on a picture-perfect day, your husband at your side, no one around for miles in either direction. Cool.

Heard a great song on the radio while I was driving around out there. Y'know, that's another great thing about living in the city. A radio station for every mood. Wanna hear Arabic rap or a polka? How 'bout oldies, classics, talk, news, whatever. It's there, crowding the dial, you just have to look for it. Anyway, I heard "Sign Your Name" by Terence Trent D'arby, which I haven't heard in at least a dozen years.

Fortunately you've got someone who relies on you
we started out as friends
but the thought of you just caves me in
the symptoms are so deep
it's so much too late to turn away
we started out as friends
sign your name across my heart
i want you to be my baby.

Nice. Made me think of you, and how you've written yourself so deeply upon my heart. "The thought of you just caves me in..."