News

When I slack off on the web site, as I have been known to do from time to time, I usually get a slew of complaints after about month or so (see the Feedback section for more details). But after three months, pretty much everyone has given up. I'm still here though, still planning (hoping, wishing) to update more often. Your best bet for new content is always the Connor section. In fact, there have been new photos (and even news) posted in just the last week.

If you're sick of checking back day after day to see if I've updated (assuming you even bother anymore), allow me to make an offer. Sign-up for e-mail updates, and I'll notify you whenever I've added something new to the site. Sound fair?

I've been promoted at work, finally, after three years of working three-quarter-time for virtually no benefits. Serendipitously corresponding with my increased workload is our acquisition of a new car. Or a used car, actually -- a 2001 Ford Escort (an automatic, yay!), which means that for the first time in over a year, we have a car that Kate can actually drive, and for the first time in over two years, we simultaneously own two functioning vehicles.

A baby, a full-time job, and two cars. Sounds an awful lot like a real life, doesn't it?

Your prayers have been answered: I've updated the web site! Check out the Connor section for a whole bunch of new photos and a lenghty account (by Kate) of the delivery (and subsequent drama).

By the way: Not that Connor isn't endlessly fascinating, but I will try to provide some non-Connor-related news in the very near future.

For those of you who have been craving more Connor info, I invite you to check out the brand-new Connor section on my site, devoted solely to our beautiful little guy. (There are a bunch of pictures.)

Enjoy.

Connor Jefferson Tulonen
born June 3, 2003, 11:30 a.m.
10 pounds, 1 ounce

More to come. Soon.

Over the past few weeks, there's been a guy driving around town -- a guy about my age (and about my height) driving a car that looks quite bit like our car. This guy, he's been muttering to himself. If you were riding in the back seat of this car, and if you were to lean forward and listen closely to this fellow, you wouldn't be able to make out much that was intelligible. But you might get the impression that this guy was in a bit of distress. That he was worried about something. Preoccupied.

Today, though, he seems calmer. Still nervous, clearly, but not as troubled. It's as if some uncertainty had finally become certain. He seems more at peace.

Find out why.

Thirty-nine days (give or take) before the birth of our baby, I'm sitting up too late, thinking about things. For more detailed musings, head on over the Critter section.

Yesterday, we went to see The Hours (finally!). When we got back, I checked our phone messages, and there was one message from a woman who had obviously called from a cell phone. "Hello," the message began. "I'm calling for Greg Tulonen. My name is [crackle static crackle] and I'm one of two fiction editors at [crackle static crackle]. You submitted the story 'Ash Paradise' to us -- I'm not sure when -- and we'd like to publish it in our next issue."

So: Yay! But also: Ack! Why did the message have to break up when it did? "Ash Paradise" is out at a lot of places. Which one had accepted it?

Fortunately, she had left a phone number, so I was able to deduce which journal she was from. It seems that the good folks at The Madison Review will be publishing my story. I'm thrilled.

We spent the weekend in Maine, visiting Kate's parents, her brother and sister-in-law, and our nephew Kieran, who's charming and unflaggingly energetic. After clocking some time with the boy, I don't know why we ever buy toys for kids (okay, I do know: they're really for the parents). Kieran spent literally hours playing with a big cardboard box, delighting in its versatility: It's a table! It's a bed! It's a house! Now how much would you pay? But wait, there's more!

The adults also played a couple of games of Trivial Pursuit, pitting the born Dionnes (Pete, Kate, and Marty) against the married-to-Dionnes (Mary, Lara, and me). Out of respect for the losers, I'll refrain from gloating over who won both matches.

In other news, Kate and I have been playing games with the Critter. Fun stuff.

Many DVD fans know that movies in that format often include Easter eggs, hidden features that aren't indicated anywhere on the menus. You just have to move the cursor around with the remote control, looking for graphics or icons that light up or move or change. When you hit "Enter," you get a little extra something, a hidden feature, an "Easter egg."

This site right here is laced with many Easter eggs, a fact that I reveal today in honor of Easter Sunday. Try clicking on a picture of a nurse book cover. Or try clicking on a full-sized (not thumbnail) photo of our nephew Kieran.

There are many others. Happy hunting.

More Critter news, in the form of our first childbirth lesson.

For those of you keeping score at home, I've added a special little something to the Critter section. It should help everyone keep track of just how long we've (probably) got until B-Day. Enjoy.

Okay, it snowed 6 freakin' inches on Monday night, and has flurried off and on ever since.

Listen. I grew up in New England and Montana. Sleet, snow, cold weather -- these are not new concepts to me.

But enough is enough. It's April 10, for crying out loud.

Jeesh!

I'm back from the big boy's-night-out cards session at my dad's. Over the course of our many hours of play, we all won at least one game. However, Claude won the final, climactic Hearts game on Sunday morning -- due (in part) to that one hand in which Rod and Nik missed their many opportunities to prevent Claude from shooting the moon.

Which brings us to an important point: When discussing Hearts, remember that all one's victories can be attributed to skillful play, while all one's defeats should be attributed to ludicrously bad luck combined with the inept play of others.

We make a charming bunch, alternately bitching and gloating and yelling at one another for playing the wrong card. It's probably a good thing that we all get together only every two years or so.

Today I'm heading up to my dad's house in Vermont for some intense cards action (Hearts, most likely) with my dad, Claude, and Nik. I know of no finer card game than Hearts. It is at once simple and complicated, sweetly satisfying and intensely vicious.

My Hearts luck tends to run hot and cold, but with Hearts, it's important to never ease up on the trash-talking, even (or especially) if one is doing badly. To that end, I've already phoned ahead and told the guys to prepare to have the asses kicked. Claude assures me that that's not going to happen. Whatever you need to cling to, I told him. And so it begins.

By the way, a recurring theme in the Feedback section of this site is the complaint that I don't update more frequently. I really am trying to satisfy this request. But in the meantime, those in search of new material should visit Movie Boy, the movies-themed blog I keep for MassLive.com. It's easy to get to (from anywhere on this site). Just click on the icon in the upper-right-hand corner of the screen. (If you don't see an icon, hit "Refresh" or "Reload.") Movie Boy is updated almost every weekday, and sometimes even on the weekend. Let me know what you think.

Some people may think that just because I have a web site devoted to the endlessly fascinating topic of ME, I'm not interested in what anyone else has to say. Is that true? No, I say, no! I'm deeply interested in others' opinions, especially when those opinions are about ME.

To that end, I've installed a feedback section on the site. Got a gripe? A complaint? A deeply sincere bit of flattery? E-mail me at gregtulonen@gregtulonen.com so that your voice can be heard.

Warning: This entry will be of little interest to people who don't enjoy the contemplation of words, their subtle meanings and connotations. It might be of slight interest to people who enjoy gathering evidence of what a dork I can be.

So Kate and I were talking about the word "patience," a quality I have often accused Kate of not exactly possessing in spades, at least when it comes to waiting for something she wants (the critter, for example). Kate disagrees with me, claiming that people who supposedly do possess patience can't be all that excited about the thing they're waiting for -- because if they were, they'd long for it, making them impatient.

As we often do, we turned to the dictionary to settle the matter.

Merriam-Webster defines "patience" as "the capacity, habit, or fact of being patient." Okay, that's not all that helpful. But "patient" is defined as "bearing pains or trials calmly or without complaint." So, for the purposes of our dispute, the dictionary bears me out. One can feel impatient, but if one doesn't express those feelings, she is, by definition, patient. And Kate, therefore, is not.

Discussing the word further, we realized that patience is a rather odd quality. People talk about feeling patient or being patient, but what they really mean is shutting up about feeling impatient. If you actually do feel patient, you're not really "bearing pains or trials." You're therefore not really being patient at all. Being patient basically means faking patience. If you're not faking it, you're not actually doing it. Weird, no?

I think the fact that Kate and I are willing to endlessly explore such nuances means we're pretty well suited for each other. As for the rest of you, perhaps you'd enjoy a nice movie review.

I went to New York City this past weekend to visit some Middlebury friends. I usually see them over Memorial Day weekend at a cabin in Pennsylvania, but this year, I could very well be otherwise occupied on Memorial Day. It was great to see everyone, and partake in some NYC food I've missed (chiefly, Two Boots Pizza and Krispy Kreme Doughnuts). On Saturday, Kate Culkin and I (and about 125,000 other people) marched down Broadway in the anti-war protest. It was a beautiful day for a march, and people seemed extremely peaceful and positive. I guess a few folks were arrested, but I didn't see anything remotely violent.

I was back on Sunday in time to watch the Oscars, of course. This year's broacast seemed very odd, interspersed as it was with war dispatches. For more Oscar observations, see the March 24 Movie Boy.

Today I launched a new blog on MassLive.com, this one devoted solely to movies. It will contain movie reviews, just like the ones you've come to know in love in my Pop Culture section, but also reflections, ruminations, and rants on movies in general. Expect it to be updated often, more often than this site.

Now I know what some of you may be thinking: Great, even more blather from Greg. But if you like that sort of thing, then I guarantee that this is just the sort of thing you're going to like.

Excited? Well, what are you waiting for? Head on over. Set a bookmark. Tell your friends. I bring you: Movie Boy!

Kate's on Staten Island this week, visiting her friend Mary. So I (in the parlance of the time) am "batching it." Upon contemplation of that phrase, "batching it," I'm struck by its oddness. First off, there's no "t" in bachelor. But I guess if it were spelled "baching it," it would seem like I was listening to classical music or something. Second, it's not like I'm renting porn and inviting hookers over (the way I did when I was a bachelor). I'm still quite married here, obviously. Things are just a little more quiet and lonely this week.

Usually when Kate's away, I end up eating a lot more meat. Which is not to say that just because Kate's a vegetarian I can't eat meat when she's home. It's usually just simpler for us to prepare meals we both can eat. When she's away, however, I go hog-wild (or, you know, cow-wild or chicken-wild). It hasn't really happened yet this week, but it's probably only a matter of time.

When it comes to buying things for myself, I sometimes have trouble knowing what I want. I'll dither and haw and hem in the clothing store or bookstore or music store, finally making my purchase after much internal debate. When I get an item home, however, I have absolutely no problem discerning whether or not I want it. It's amazing how clear it becomes.

With clothing and music, I'm usually happy, but with books (for some reason), I often end up with stuff I don't want. They sit on my shelf, unloved and unread, for years, filling me with guilt and regret.

But good old Barnes & Noble takes books back, even without a receipt. Lately, I've been gathering up these unwanted books and taking them to B&N, exchanging them for store credit. In the past month, I've built up about a hundred bucks worth of credit, which is great, but my buying handicap remains. Last week, I exchanged a couple of books for two new ones, then later realized I didn't want the new ones either. No problem. I took them back, exchanging them for a couple of the Martin Beck mysteries I wrote about last week. I had to order them, but I'll be happy when they arrive.

I think.

It's snowing like crazy out there. You know, I enjoy the snow. It's very beautiful and all. But come on. Enough is enough. Maybe this guy has a point after all.

A few site additions today, including some speculation on the current condition of the critter and a review of the Swedish crime novel The Laughing Policeman in Pop Culture.

Also, in a desperate attempt at more link-backs, Scott Brodeur continues to talk about me, this site, and (especially) my nurse books in his blog. I think he may be overestimating a) how many people come to my site, and b) how many times I'm willing to link back to him. This is probably it, Scott.

My nurse book collection got a mention today in Scott Brodeur's blog, Blog Beat. Scott wonders: "Fetish? Obsession? Or just very strange hobby?" The world may never know, Scott.

Anyway, I knew that such a large and thoroughly documented collection would get me noticed someday. I suspect, however, that this fame is fleeting. After all, tomorrow Scott will write about someone else and people will forget all about my girls in white.

In other site news, I've posted a review of the Oscar-nominated About Schmidt in the Pop Culture section.

Regular visitors to the site should notice some cosmetic changes around here. Let me know what you think.

In other news, Kate and I are contemplating our impending parenthood, and how that will affect (among other things) our cooking style. In the past, friends and family have enjoyed (we hope) our elaborately prepared meals. But with the critter's arrival, "elaborately prepared" may become a bit of a foreign phrase to us. To that end, we're trying to develop a repertoire of simple, old-fashioned, reliable dishes (just like our mothers used to make when we were small and attention-demanding). See the Recipes section for two no-hassle meals, American Chop Suey (properly vegetarianized) and Tuna Noodle Casserole.

Judging by the Pop Culture section of this site, you'd think that I never watched TV, read a book, or listened to music. It's not true, but I do find myself more compelled to write about movies than any other medium. Everything's likely to change when the critter arrives and I become more homebound, but for now, I'm Movie Boy.

However, I did finally add a book to the book section today. I just read Ann Packer's The Dive from Clausen's Pier, one of Barnes & Noble's Best First Novels of 2002. I posted my thoughts over there in Pop Culture.

There are a couple of new movie reviews over in Pop Culture, and (at my aunt Patty's request) there's finally a new Critter entry.

Okay, we have three cats. That doesn't mean we're freaks or anything. It's not like we dress them up and have tea parties with them or stage historical reenactments. It's just three cats. Slightly less normal than two cats, that's all.

I say this as preface to the following description of Rigby's morning ritual, which (for some reason) charms both Kate and me. Rigby loves it when either of us showers. She loves it so much that every time we make a move toward the bathroom, she barrels in ahead of us, leaps up onto the edge of the tub, and stares at us expectantly. When one of us actually is showering, she quickly positions herself between the shower curtain and its liner. As soon as the spray starts, she begins licking the liner, which is semi-opaque and thus creates an odd visual effect from inside the shower.

I can't imagine what satisfaction she derives from this. The liner is water-proof and presumably fairly dry on the side she's licking, so I don't think she can be getting much liquid refreshment. However, as soon as we're out of the shower, she hops in and begins licking the bottom of the tub. I know: Ew. But also: Aw.

MassLive.com, that fine web site for which I work, recently added a blogs feature. Check it out. On the left-hand side of the page, there are links to some "COOL WMASS WEBLOGS," including this one right here (which admittedly may be stretching the point a bit).

So, what was once a way for me to communicate with friends and family (and thereby cut down on my phone bill) has become a little more public. To that end, my boss Scott snidely chastised me today for not updating more often. (Scott, if you're reading this: Just kidding. You weren't really snide.) (Everyone else: Yes, he really was.)

In any case, here you go, Scott (and everyone else). Look for more regular updates now. Tomorrow, for example, I'll have a fascinating entry about my cat's tongue. In the meantime, check out some deep thoughts about Shanghai Knights.

Here I am.

Yeah, I know. You want updates. I'm working on it. This isn't an excuse, but I've been pursuing another writing sideline. E-mail me for more info (if you don't know about it already).

I have a slew of movies (and a book) to write about, and I'll try to get to them over the next couple of weeks. (We'll begin with Confessions of a Dangerous Mind.) I'm also thinking that maybe the site needs a re-design. I don't know. Maybe not.

Kate, the critter (also known -- in this house -- as "the otter"), and I are all fine. Due date is three and a half months away. Oy vey!

As previously mentioned on this site, my mother very generously gave Kate and me a washer and drier for Christmas, a gift that will surely be a godsend (momsend?) when the baby arrives.

The deal was that Kate and I would do the research and purchase the appliances down here, to be reimbursed by my mother. Which we did, buying a Frigidaire front-loading washer and stackable drier from Manny's TV and Appliance in Hadley, Mass.

And so our problems began.

First, the washer and drier were out of stock (a fact revealed about a week after purchase). Then, the plumbing hookup had to be reconfigured (due to a faulty de-configuration about ten years ago). Then a new electrical outlet had to be installed (due to new safety regulations). Then, Manny's delivery truck broke down.

Fine, fine, fine. We're grown-ups (pretty much). We dealt with it. Finally, after three weeks, the washer and drier were coming between 9 a.m. and 1 p.m. today.

Except, no.

Then, the washer and drier were coming between 3 p.m. and 4 p.m., which -- amazingly enough -- actually happened (they arrived at 3:57 p.m.). But then, the hoses weren't long enough to reach the plumbing fixture, so we have to buy new ones. Fine. No problem. We'll go to the hardware store and buy them right away. It's no problem. Really it isn't.

Then, the electrical outlet that we just had installed turned out to be an outlet for a stove rather than a drier. So, we need to have a conversation with the electrician.

In the meantime, Kate and I have been pushing the envelope with dirty laundry, convinced that we'll have a brand-new, beautiful washer and drier at our disposal in a matter of days. And who knows? Maybe we will.

The goal of a Zen Buddhist is to realize Nirvana, a state in which no material things are needed for happiness. We're not there yet. This washer and drier are going to make us very happy.

Just as soon as we can plug the damned things in.

I haven't mentioned it, but I had stopped swimming for awhile there. If you'll recall, I got sick right after Thanksgiving. So there was that, combined with all that holiday travel, and swimming in the morning sort of fell by the poolside. (Not that I'm making excuses or anything.) In any case, my cough finally went away a couple of weeks ago (with the help of some dandy codeine-laced cough syrup), and this week, I was back swimming again. It was good to see the old YMCA gang again. (And by "old," I mean no disrespect to the senior citizens who frequent the Y at 6:30 in the morning.)

Kate's folks came down last week to witness our final ultrasound (more in the Critter section). Upon arrival, they immediately asked if they could vacuum the apartment. I suppose we could be insulted by this, but since the apartment is now much cleaner, why bother?

I'm still playing catch-up with this season's movies, but I actually caught three this weekend. Read all about it in Pop Culture.

After waiting out countless family visits (and a few blizzards), I finally got out to the movies last night, seeing Steven Spielberg's latest, Catch Me If You Can. You can read my review over in Pop Culture.

Rod and Pat, whom we didn't see at Christmas, came down yesterday for homemade pizza (recipe in the Recipes section, of course) and a final exchange of presents. Their visit was preceded by mad housecleaning on our part, which also entailed clearing out the pantry to make room for the new washer and drier, a Christmas/there's-a-baby-coming-and-we'll-need-it gift from my mom (thanks, Mom!). For some reason, even though we lost the entire pantry space, we managed to reorganize the kitchen enough to actually have more room for canned items and dry goods. (Admittedly, the six bags of rubbish we took out also contributed to the extra space.) In any case, the apartment is much, much cleaner now, making both Kate and me very happy.

In other news, Rigby caught and ate the head off a mouse last night, her second in a week (both mouse corpses discovered by Kate's bare feet on her way to the bathroom). We're hoping that the word gets out among the mouse community and that any remaining mice move on to more cat-free environments.

In case you missed it, Kate added a terrific entry to the Critter section yesterday.

The first day of the year, and the end (finally) of an exhausting holiday season in which we were bopping around among six familial households over five days (Kate encountering severe gastro-intestinal distress at the tail-end of it all).

Let's break it down (the holidays, not the gastro-intestinal distress):

On Christmas Eve, after I got off work, we drove to Nana and Grampy's, dropped off the cats, then went with Nana and Grampy to my uncle David's family's house to celebrate December birthdays -- including Emily's, Kate's, and Nana's (her 80th). After dinner (but before dessert), David shaved off his moustache for the first time in 22 years, much to the consternation of his daughter Amy. At the end of the evening, it was back to Nana and Grampy's for much Cold-Waresque tension between our cats and my mother's cat, Pandora.

Christmas Day, Debbie came over for our traditional breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, and oatmeal bread toast. Then, after a quick exchange of presents, we were off to David's for more present exchanging and some pastries. Then, to Bill's family's house for many snacks and more presents. Then, to Patty's family's house, where everybody gathered for a final exchange of presents, a Yankee Swap, and a great big enormous turkey and ham dinner.

Oh yeah. There was also a huge blizzard raging all Christmas Day.

Towards evening, said blizzard began making people somewhat nervous about getting home, so most of us bolted after the Yankee Swap, wolfing down dessert (including my rum cake) on our way out the door. We then had a very slow, nerve-racking drive back to Nana and Grampy's.

Still reading? For God's sake, why?

The day after Christmas, Kate and I (and the cats) stopped by Anna and Reino's for a quick visit and to drop off a present for Anna. Then, we drove up to Maine to see the in-laws, exchanging more presents (and eating still more food). Our nephew Kieran is old enough to know us by sight now, calling me "Geg" or, alternately, "Dem Dukes!" (which of course makes me very proud). He even remembers that there's a baby somewhere in the vicinity of Kate's belly, but no matter how much he pulls up her shirt, he can't seem to find it.

Saturday's when Kate got so terribly sick and Sunday's when we headed home. On Monday, it was back to work.

In any case, I'm happy to have the day off today.

And, just in case you're still reading, I promise to try to update the site more often in the new year.