#368, in which the mountains in reply echo their joyous strains

#9 "Angels We Have Heard on High" (music and lyrics: traditional French carol, trans. James Chadwick, based on Luke 2:8-20)

The French carol this hymn is based on is called "Les Anges des nos campagnes", which in English could be read as "angels in our countryside," which I rather like because it suggests that rather than the angels singing from on high to us, they make a personal appearance in our own backyard. Alas, the phrase "angels we have heard on high" won out. It's not a bad translation, and from my limited knowledge of French, the two translations are largely the same other than that line, but I like that wrinkle. Maybe I'll sing "angels in our countryside" next time I sing this hymn.

Many people, including myself, are fond of this song because of its most enduring feature: the melismatic chorus of "gloria in excelsis Deo." I imagine that many people, including myself, hadn't heard the word "melismatic" before, so I'll tell you that melisma is the stretching of one syllable over multiple notes in succession. This hymn is one of the most famous uses of melisma in psalmody, and like many of the others, the melismatic word is one of praise. (Think of the other melismatics in the hymnbook; they're mostly words like "gloria" and "alleluia.") The soprano part gently floats over the other three parts of the music, and it's not hard to imagine that the angelic choruses floating o'er the the weary world we sang about yesterday sounded somewhat similar.

We heard about this a few days ago in discussing "Joy to the World," but it's not just the angels who are singing to their King. The mountains sing in reply, and while the easy interpretation is the echoed joyous strains are literal echoes, I think it's no stretch to think that the mountains themselves were singing, however you'd like to look at that. Jesus is the Lord of all Creation. We tend to think of creation as things that walk, talk, and breathe, but remember that we heard "fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains repeat the sounding joy." I don't know that I'm going to go so far as to suggest that the mountains were singing in the same sense as the angels, but I will suggest that so far as it can feel, the earth felt joy at the coming of the newborn king.

We hear angels, mountains, and shepherds prolonging their joyous strains, and in the third verse, we, too, are invited to hear those gladsome tidings which inspire their heavenly song. Listen:

Come to Bethlehem and see
Him whose birth the angels sing;
Come, adore on bended knee
Christ the Lord, the newborn King.

The commands are to see and to adore on bended knee, but while we aren't commanded to sing, I think that like the shepherds and the mountains before us, we wouldn't be able to help but let out a melismatic, 16-note "glo-o-o-o-o-ooo-o-o-o-o-ooo-o-o-o-o-ooo-ria" of our own.


Previously in this series

#10 It Came upon the Midnight Clear
#11 O Little Town of Bethlehem
#12 With Wondering Awe
#13 Joy to the World
#14 While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks

#367, in which still their heav'nly music floats o'er all the weary world

#10 "It Came upon the Midnight Clear" (music: Richard S. Willis, lyrics: Edmund H. Sears)

This is the only one of the fourteen hymns to be in 6/8 time (although not the only one to be in six). And I have a confession to make: I told you yesterday that "O Little Town of Bethlehem" was the only one of these hymns to use the word "years," but here we are literally one day later, and the phrase "ever-circling years" comes up in verse three. I led you astray, and I'm sorry. The word has a different meaning here, though. In the last hymn, it reflected millennia of looking forward; here, it refers to a time long after the nativity. We'll get there in due time, but I think it's interesting that so many Christmas hymns address the Second Coming in conjunction with the First.

As with many of these hymns, we have angels, and they're singing to us about the infant Jesus. "Peace on the earth, good will to men from heav'n's all-gracious King," they say, and not just the shepherds, not just the magi, and not just Bethlehem, but the world "in solemn stillness lay to hear the angels sing." The hymnal directs us to sing "brightly," but the gentle, quiet way in which the Tabernacle Choir sings the hymn in the video at the end is how I picture the scene. There were animals and strangers in the manger with Joseph and Mary, but I imagine there was reverence, too.

In the second verse, we sing that "still [the angels'] heav'nly music floats o'er all the weary world," and there's not a word in that phrase that wasn't well chosen. We're no longer singing about the nativity, but about our own time. We live in a weary world, jaded and indifferent toward the things of the spirit, and yet the angels sing on, their words and notes floating over the world to anyone who cares to listen over the "babel sounds" trying so hard to drown them out. There are distractions enough to fill an ocean, but the choice is left to us whether or not to bend an ear to hear the music floating by.

The third verse, as I mentioned earlier, brings us to His Second Coming, in which... well, I'll let the hymn speak for itself:

For lo! the days are hast'ning on,
By prophets seen of old,
When with the ever-circling years
Shall come the time foretold,
When the new heav'n and earth shall own
The Prince of Peace their King,
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.

The word "ever-circling" is an apt description of our attitude toward the divine, I think. We all go through phases of waxing and waning spirituality, and it's always the same things that have drawn us away from and toward the Lord over the ages. There's nothing new under the sun, and those same distractions are ever-circling. Only once He comes again, the cycle will be broken. He will reign personally on the earth (remember "Joy to the World"?) and both heaven and earth will become new. And through all of this, just as they have in ages past, the angels still sing the same song, only now, the whole world joins in with them.

Peace on earth, good will to men from heav'n's all-gracious King.


Previously in this series

#11 O Little Town of Bethlehem
#12 With Wondering Awe
#13 Joy to the World
#14 While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks

#366, in which the hopes and fears of all the years are met

#11 "O Little Town of Bethlehem" (music: Lewis H. Redner, text: Phillips Brooks, based on Luke 2:4-16)

I've only ever heard this tune (called "St. Louis," written by Phillips Brooks, the organist at the Episcopal church in which Lewis Redner was a rector), but there are actually several tunes for these lyrics. One is even called "The Ploughboy's Dream," which sounds like a pretty terrific name to me.

This is far from the only hymn to be written about the events of Luke 2. It's not the only hymn to mention Bethlehem, nor is it the only one to mention the time of night or the stillness of the scene. It is, however, so far as I can tell, the only one of the fourteen hymns to mention the word "years:"

O little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie.
Above thy dark and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by;
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light.
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.

Jesus was born, depending on your calendar, anywhere between 6 B.C. and A.D. 1. Mankind had been around for at least four thousand years before that (and possibly as many as ten thousand, depending on how you define "mankind"), and all the while, they had been waiting for this moment. Prophets had long foretold the moment their Savior would come, and it's not unrealistic to suppose that for each of those four to ten thousand years, someone was looking to this very moment.

The hopes are simple enough to understand; anyone looking to Jesus' birth trusting that He would redeem them from their sins would certainly take hope from that thought. But what of the fears? Assuming they correctly understood the message, who would look to that day with fear?

Well, the Nephite people in the Book of Mormon, for one. Prophets in the Americas had also long foretold Jesus' coming, but unlike in the Old World, those believers had a death threat hanging over their heads as a result of their belief. From 3 Nephi 1:

7 And it came to pass that [those who did not believe] did make a great uproar throughout the land; and the people who believed began to be very sorrowful, lest by any means those things which had been spoken might not come to pass. 

8 But behold, they did watch steadfastly for that day and that night and that day which should be as one day as if there were no night, that they might know that their faith had not been vain.

These were people of faith, but there was fear in their hearts. They had waited five years since a particularly notable prophecy in which the date of Jesus' birth was foretold, and while they trusted that those words would be fulfilled, it's easy to see why they would have been afraid. Yet despite that fear, they kept their eyes to the heavens, clutching their children a little tighter, watching for the star.

As the hymn says, "How silently the wondrous gift is giv'n." The star didn't appear in an explosion, but probably simply appeared in the sky for all to see, announcing the birth of that wondrous gift. And so too, He does not shout for our attention, but knocks softly, waiting for us to respond:

No ear may hear his coming;

But in this world of sin,

Where meek souls will receive him, still

The dear Christ enters in.

Previously in this series

#12 With Wondering Awe
#13 Joy to the World
#14 While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks

#365, in which still is sung in ev'ry tongue the angels' song of glory

#12 "With Wondering Awe" (tune: Laudis Corona, based on Matthew 2:1-11)

Here's another hymn we don't sing as often as the others, and I think that's a real shame. It's a simple tune, and even if you're not familiar with it, you wouldn't have any problems singing it after about thirty seconds. In fact, if you click on that link at the top and listen to it, you'll probably find yourself humming it all day. And you could do worse than that, I think.

This is a Christmas hymn, of course, but it only mentions the Christ child once, and that not even by name ("the wondrous little Stranger"). Instead, the hymn focuses on the magi and the star that led them to Him. It's a different point of view than the shepherds we heard in "While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks," and it's made very clear in the first verse, with the words, "And with delight, in peaceful night, they heard the angels singing." The shepherds were terrified to see the angels, probably because they caught them off guard. They probably hadn't heard any of the prophecies foretelling Jesus' birth. They were watching their flocks by night and wouldn't have been expecting heavenly messengers. The magi, however, were. They knew the signs and were watching for them. When they heard the angels' songs (probably not in person, but in their hearts), it didn't frighten them, but brought joy to their hearts.

The third and fourth verses bring us from the Nativity to the present. It's not just an abstract event in the past we sing about, but one that we take part in today.

And still is found, the world around,
The old and hallowed story,
And still is sung in ev'ry tongue
The angels' song of glory.

When we sing this hymn, we join in those songs of glory, and perhaps literally so when we sing the refrain of "hosanna, hosanna, hosanna to his name!" It's the same song the shepherds and magi sang thousands of years ago, and it's the same song we'll sing thousands of years hence. The fourth verse tells us as much; the star of Bethlehem will continue to shine and "shall not cease till holy peace in all the earth is growing."

We're not there yet, clearly, but I imagine every hosanna and every noel we sing brings us incrementally closer.

Previously in this series

#13 Joy to the World
#14 While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks

#364, in which israel spreads abroad

#13 Joy to the World (music: George F. Handel, text: Isaac Watts and W.W. Phelps)

Yes, that Handel, although it's less likely that he actually wrote the song and more likely that the tune was based on refrains from The Messiah. It's a lovely tune, and not at all surprising that someone like him was involved in its creation. It's also arguably the most famous of the Christmas hymns; Wikipedia informs me that it's the most-published hymn in North America.

And yet I've placed it toward the bottom of the list. Maybe it's how often I hear the song, or maybe it's the sense of shoutiness I get from the song that make me not like it as much as the others, but it's never really been one of my favorites. But that's not to say that it's bad. In fact, it's unique among the 14 hymns. What's different? Listen to the first verse and see if you notice it.

Joy to the world,
The Lord is come;
Let earth receive her King!
Let every heart prepare him room,
And saints and angels sing.

You see? No? Maybe it's not immediately clear from the first verse. Try the second on for size.

Rejoice! Rejoice when Jesus reigns,
And saints their songs employ,
While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains
Repeat the sounding joy.

While the first verse is ambiguous, it's clear from the second that this hymn isn't about Jesus' first coming, but his second. He's coming in power, not as an infant. It's the only Christmas hymn that isn't actually about Christmas. Of course, it's still about Jesus. It just talks about the result of His birth and sacrifice rather than the birth itself. That's a beautiful part of the hymn I hadn't really noticed until putting these posts together.

I hate to get all "remember the REAL reason for the season" on you, but that's exactly what this hymn does. It tell us that the blessings will flow far as the curse was found. And it tells us, as I've noted in the title of this post (which wasn't chosen idly; none of them are) that Israel will spread abroad like stars that glitter in the sky. It tells us that knowledge of the Savior will spread through the world, healing it. One day, we can hope to be cured of sorrow, misery, anger, and everything else. Peace on earth, and all that.

Far as the curse was found.

Previously in this series:

#14 While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks

#363, in which the angel of the Lord came down and glory shone around

There are 14 Christmas hymns in the LDS hymnbook, and I always look forward to attending church during December because I know I'll get to sing all 14 of them during the month. One that we sang this last Sunday was one that Tamsen and I agreed was our favorite of the 14, which made me think how I would order them all. So I took some time during our sacrament meeting and--while still paying attention to the talks, I'll have you know--came up with a list.

I'm going to share that list with you, one day at a time, over the next two weeks. Keep in mind that this isn't an exhaustive list of the greatest Christmas songs, but rather an ordering of the Christmas hymns in the LDS hymnbook. If I was extending this to all Christmas songs, #1 on the list would be "O Come O Come Emmanuel," and its position as #1 would be inarguable. Consider the lyrics of its first verse, and try and tell me otherwise:

O come, O come Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel

Songs that mention redemption really resonate with me, and that's something you'll notice in my list over the next two weeks.

So, let's get started. Remember that this list is completely subjective, and that a hymn appearing low on the list doesn't mean that I dislike it. It's just that there are others that I like more. There are a lot of excellent songs here, and they can't all appear in the top three.

14. "While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks" (Nahum Tate, based on Luke 2:8-14)

(link to hymn on LDS.org; you can change settings to hear the words under the audio tab)

Again, to be fair, ranking this hymn as no. 14 isn't to say that I don't like it. I think it's fine, although it's probably the song I'm least familiar with of the 14. Its case also isn't helped by the fact that the tune sounds very similar to "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" at first, making it tricky to sing for someone already unfamiliar with it.

But set all that aside, and you'll find that the hymn is actually rather nice. As mentioned above, it's based on the appearance of the angel to the shepherds in Luke 2. It's not too had to imagine how terrified those shepherds must have been, seeing a heavenly visitor in the middle of the night (or whatever time of day it was), and it's nice to hear the comforting message the angel had for them. It's also reassuring to know that angels today can provide us with similar comfort. They tell us of peace on earth and good will toward men. They tell us to fear not, and in a world where fear is increasingly commonplace, that's a nice message to hear.

Angels don't always take the form of heavenly beings clothed in white and bearing trumpets, mind you. Sometimes they're a kind neighbor, or a thoughtful stranger who holds a door open for you. And sometimes they take the form of a six year-old boy, clutching a blanket and telling us all about the true meaning of Christmas.


(Yes, the passage he quotes is the same one this hymn is based on.)

I know I said that the tune was tricky for those unfamiliar with the hymn, but once you hear it a couple of times, it starts to stick in your head. I've been humming it while writing this post, and it's been pleasant. The bit that's been stuck in my head has been the last two bars of the first verse, which read, "'Fear not,' said he, for mighty dread had seized their troubled mind; 'Glad tidings of great joy I bring to you and all mankind."

Pretty nice, isn't it? It's the hymn of the 14 I'm least familiar with, and I imagine you are as well, but maybe now that we've taken the time to listen to it a couple of times, maybe we'll think better of it the next time we sing it in church. (Perhaps you're not LDS and won't have a chance to sing it in your church, since you use a different hymnbook. You're welcome to come with me and sing it next Sunday; if you don't live by me, there are meetinghouses all over the world, and this link can tell you where the closest one to you is.)

#362, in which a country is traversed

After a couple of months of looking, I was lucky enough to land a few job interviews about a month ago, and wouldn't you know it, the first one came through. I would have probably accepted just about any company that would have had me, but it happened that this one was a particularly nice fit. (They're also fairly well known in Japan, as it turns out. I told Tamsen's parents' Japanese exchange student where I was working, and his eyes just about bugged out of his head.) We were hoping I could get a job not too long after graduating so that Edith could have health insurance, and everything worked out very nicely on that front.

The trick, however, was that we were living in Eugene, and the job was just outside of Nashville. So we needed to pack our things and get to Tennessee within two weeks.

The packing and moving, though unpleasant, wasn't actually so bad. The getting to Tennessee was much more interesting though, and that's the story I'm going to tell here.

Devotees will know that I like to make use of my Twitter feed, and driving from Oregon to Tennessee seemed like a pretty good chance to do just that. I looked at the map, found that I'd have to go through ten states to get to Nashville, and decided to use the hashtag #TenToTenn for my three-day trip. You know, because jokes. I had a route all planned out, a Twitter hashtag ready to go, and was actually looking forward to the trip a little bit.

Once I got on the road, though, I realized that maybe it wasn't going to be quite the fun road trip I imagined. A quick look at the map and you'll see what I mean.

The picture might be a little small, but you can clearly see both the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans on that map. This might be less of a trip and more of an odyssey.

The first day wasn't so bad, as it was a drive I'd made several times before. I left Portland early Wednesday morning and planned on making it to Salt Lake that evening.

A long drive, to be sure, and one that would take me through lots of desert and mountains, but not too bad. My only concern was making it across the Blue Mountains in eastern Oregon. It's a chain-up zone in the winter because of snow storms, and I didn't have any snow chains. The weather forecast said it was going to be clear, though, so I forged ahead.

My first stop was in The Dalles, OR, where I stopped to fill up and realized that The Dalles is the second to last stop in the much-beloved Oregon Trail video game. Which led me to the following realization:

First stop: The Dalles. It strikes me that this trip is basically the Oregon Trail in reverse. #TenToTenn
— Sam Orme (@TheRealSamOrme) November 6, 2013

As it turned out, that tweet was by far the most popular of my whole trip. Friends spent much of the day making all of the Oregon Trail jokes I wanted to but couldn't, ranging from shooting buffaloes but not being able to fit all the meat in my car to making sure I caulked the car properly before trying to float across a river. I didn't end up seeing the jokes until I arrived in Salt Lake that evening.

When I got to the Idaho border, I decided to take a picture, something I tried to do with every border crossing I made.

A sad picture for me, but perhaps not as sad as the one that followed.

Oh, Idaho. Why do you have to be so Idaho?

Idaho wasn't actually as bad as eastern Oregon. Idaho was shorter to get through, and there were a fair amount of large cities to use as landmarks to gauge my progress. Eastern Oregon just has a lot of empty space. (And Hermiston and La Grande, in case residents of those cities are reading this.) I made it to Utah just as it was getting dark. I took a picture of the "Welcome to Utah" sign, but I guess I didn't save it to my phone properly, so you'll just have to imagine it. The darkness made it tricky to see, anyway.

I stayed at my aunt's house, and my sister and her boyfriend came to visit, as did Eliza. It was nice to see everyone, but I don't think I was very good company, since I was so tired. They were all too well-mannered to say otherwise, though, which was nice.

The next morning, I got up early and headed east through the mountains to Wyoming. The goal was Lincoln, NE.

This day promised to be the least exciting of my trip, as the directions consisted more or less of "get on I-80 East, then get off when you get to Lincoln." I was lucky enough to get NPR stations through nearly all of my first day, but not so much so on my second day. The silver lining, though, was that I got to listen to my ABBA greatest hits CD through most of Wyoming. When I got to Cheyenne and stopped for lunch, I told everyone just how much I was enjoying the CD.

Feel the beat from the tambourIIIIIIIINE OH YEEEAAAH (this is what it would have been like to ride with me) #TenToTenn
— Sam Orme (@TheRealSamOrme) November 7, 2013

Energized with the power of Swedish disco, I got through Wyoming and saw this just after lunch:

Wyoming was very hilly, if somewhat uninteresting to look it (except for some snow-covered valleys, which were spectacular under that huge blue sky); the instant I crossed the border into Nebraska, though, it got flat. And it stayed flat, all the way to Lincoln. Nebraska was not an especially exciting state. But I had a cheap motel room to look forward to, and I was planning on watching the Oregon-Stanford game as a reward for making it all that way. (And of course, Oregon lost and lost badly. So much for my reward.)

I got up early the next morning and prepared to drive.

Day 3. You ready? Because I'm ready. I mean, I want to die. But I'm ready. #TenToTenn
— Sam Orme (@TheRealSamOrme) November 8, 2013

This was an interesting day for me, as I was going through six states, very little of which I'd been to before. Here's the route I took.

You might notice that this route would take me through Iowa, but only for about ten miles. It was over nearly as soon as it began, but that didn't mean I was going to miss an opportunity to take my "Welcome to Iowa" picture.

Nice, huh? I took this one about five minutes later.

Missouri was a nice city. I drove through Kansas City, which I'd never seen before, and I spent most of it looking for Arrowhead Stadium. I didn't end up seeing it, but I was bowled over by the sight of Royals Stadium and the gigantic crown in the outfield. It was pretty impressive. I made my way across the state to St. Louis, and at this point, cabin fever really started to set in. I'd been driving for about 30 hours, and I was starting to feel like I was getting close to my destination. I wasn't, of course; I still had three more states to get through, but that didn't stop me from getting restless.

SEE THAT GIIIIRL, WATCH THAT SCEEEENE, DIGGIN' THE DANCING QUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN #TenToTenn
— Sam Orme (@TheRealSamOrme) November 8, 2013

Kansas City, incidentally, is the starting point of the Oregon Trail game (Independence, technically, but it's a suburb), and as I passed through, I realized that I'd basically just played the game in reverse over the last two and a half days.

It took me less than three days to undo months of the pioneers' work. #TenToTenn
— Sam Orme (@TheRealSamOrme) November 8, 2013

Onward to Illinois. I wasn't going to be in the state for more than a couple of hours, so I figured I needed to take advantage of the chance to listen to Sufjan Stevens' Illinois while driving through the state it's named for. I did, and it was lovely. The woods of southern Illinois are beautiful, and I found myself wishing just a little that I could have landed a job there so I could have spent more time in that country.

Alas, for what could have been. I drove down into Kentucky. I would have taken the "welcome to Kentucky" picture, but not only was it dark when I got there, the sign is at the end of a bridge, so I couldn't pull over and get the picture. (That's what I did for all of the pictures I took while driving; I think it's a really bad idea to use a phone while one is driving and I made a point of avoiding it on my trip.)

I didn't miss this sign, though, despite the darkness:

Welcome to Tennessee. #TenToTenn pic.twitter.com/oFicXADoRG
— Sam Orme (@TheRealSamOrme) November 9, 2013

The darkness makes it a little tricky to see, but that's the sign that was welcoming me to my new home. Hooray! I mean, I guess; I still didn't know anyone in Tennessee, nor had I even seen my new house.

And that's my trip. It might sound like I'm leaving things out, because surely more happened over the course of 36 hours of driving, but really, I'm basically omitting stories of eating burgers in the car, scanning the dial for the next NPR affiliate, and singing along to ABBA at the very top of my lungs. It was long, it was boring despite the new terrain, and I'm very happy to be reunited with my family again.

#361, in which a few pictures are shared

I understand no one thinks your children are as cute and adorable as you do. That's okay. I don't even care if you don't think my baby is the sweetiest sweetie who ever sweeted like I do. I'm posting the pictures anyway. This is the baby, and we like her a lot.

#360, in which the baby is here, and she is wonderful

This is usually a thing that the mother does, but she's resting in her bed with the baby right now, so I'm going to write up a quick summary of what happened today. Tamsen might interject with some of her personal experiences, but I was there for just about all of it, so I think I've got a reasonable grasp on what happened.

We woke up and did our best to get ready to go to the hospital this morning. I have no idea what it's like to be in labor and have to rush to the hospital, but I imagine this was a very different experience than that. Tamsen had a C-section scheduled for 12:30 today, since the baby was in breech position; she was going to come out feet first, which could have been dangerous for her. So we packed up everything we thought we'd need, did a once-over of the house, and around 9:45 looked at each other and said, "Well, is this it?" It was it. We got in the car and headed to the hospital. (We considered getting an oil change on the way over, but there was a line and we didn't want to be late, so we decided to just head to the hospital.)

We checked in, and even saw someone from our church in the lobby, after which we headed up to our room. This hospital looks really, really impressive; when Tamsen and I came for a walk-through, we both thought the place looked like a ski lodge. It's very large, there are hardwood floors everywhere, and the lobby has a two-story fireplace. All it needed were some bearskin rugs. We got up to our very nice birthing suite and Tamsen changed into some very stylish (i.e., see-through) hospital robes. We were flooded with nurses who were extremely helpful and who all told me their names as soon as they came in, which I promptly forgot because there were so many of them and they were all so wonderful.

They got Tamsen started on an IV, and before long, the flurry of activity was over and we were left to wait until the scheduled time for the C-section. (Those who followed the live-tweet may note that my tweets became very boring at this point.) For me, it still didn't feel real at this point. (It still doesn't, and I've been holding the baby for most of the day.) After a bit of waiting, they told me to put on my scrubs, and they helped Tamsen walk into the OR. It blows my mind a little that patients get to walk into any procedure, but there she was, carrying her IV bag, shuffling her way into the operating room. I sat out in the hall; they told me that once they got the spinal tap going, I could come in.

So I sat in the hall. Our obstetrician and another doctor hung out with me for a bit while they put on their scrubs. One of them explained to me exactly why it was that breech babies needed to be delivered via C-section (the umbilical cord can get pinched against their head on its way out, at which point they only have four minutes to get the child out). They both headed into the OR, so I sat back in my chair and waited. And waited. And waited a little more. There's a tree that they've drawn on their bulletin board with leaves on it for each baby born in the last six months, so I took a moment and read the babies' names and birth weights. Some were very tiny. One was just less than two pounds. My hands started shaking. I sat back down and counted multiple names. Three Ellas. Two Trinitys. No, one Trinity and one Trinitee. Two Abbys. Lots of girls born at this hospital. A nurse walked by and saw me still sitting there. "Must be having trouble with the spinal," she said as she walked by. My heartrate picked up a bit. Trouble with her spine? Is Tamsen okay? I didn't have long to worry, though; a nurse came out after about 45 seconds and told me they were ready for me to come in.

In I went. They had a tarp set up to cover her bottom half while I sat with her by her head, but it almost wouldn't have mattered. There were so many people standing around her and bustling everywhere that I couldn't see anything except her head. I sat down, and the doctors got started. Tamsen was so calm. We talked a bit and made a couple jokes (who remembers what about), and the doctors kept us informed about what was going on. "That suction you're hearing? That's the amniotic fluid." What suction? I can't hear anything. "You're going to feel a lot of pulling, Tamsen." This must be it. Are you okay? "There's a leg. Two legs! And arms! And a head!" We heard our baby crying. Tamsen joked that she heard there were all these baby parts, but they didn't say if they were all attached. They showed us our girl. Everything was attached. She looked very purple with white crust. They brought me over to a table to get her dried off. They started mopping her up, and I got my first real look at her head. Was that red hair? It looked red to me, but I wanted independent verification. I asked both nurses what they thought. "Yeah, that looks red to me." A redhead! We couldn't ask for more. They handed me a pair of forceps to cut the umbilical cord. It was really curly. It looked like a big purple phone cord. I cut the cord, and we brought the baby back over to Tamsen, who was getting sewn back up. She laid on Tamsen's chest for a couple of minutes until Tamsen said she was starting to feel lightheaded and nauseous, so I took her back to our room to get measured and weighed.

She didn't really like being weighed. She just wanted someone to hold her and touch her. It didn't help that the scale wouldn't come up with an accurate measurement, so we had to try weighing her a ton of times. The thermometer wouldn't work the first couple of times, either. We finally got it to work. Eight pounds, seven ounces. This is a big, healthy baby, and she still had a week to go until full term. They let me hold her and rock her while they got Tamsen finished up. I held her in one hand and did my best to let everyone know she had arrived safe and sound with the other. I'm sure everyone following on Twitter was going crazy, since there hadn't been any updates for about an hour. Once I got that finished, they wheeled Tamsen back into the room. We put the baby back on Tamsen's chest for some skin to skin contact. The nurses were still very, very helpful at helping Tamsen and the baby to bond.

They asked for a name. We told them Edith Sinclair. They asked how to spell it, and I told them E-D-T-I-H. Tamsen had to correct them.

My parents had just arrived, so I left Edith with Tamsen and went to say hello. We got a quick lunch in the cafeteria. I talked with my parents for a bit and then headed back upstairs to check on everyone. Tamsen wasn't recovering from the anesthesia as quickly or as well as they would have liked, so they had her on oxygen and were monitoring her blood pressure. It got pretty low just after I left, which made me feel like a bit of a jerk, but it's not as though there was anything that I could have done to help. They watched over her for about an hour while she got her strength back up. I got to hold Edith. She was very warm, and very sleepy. She really liked being held and being wrapped up tight.

After a while, Tamsen had stabilized to the point where she could be moved to her room. They have these terrific mattresses here that you can inflate and move someone easily from bed to bed. They didn't need to get a bunch of orderlies to pick her up and move her; just one nurse inflated the mattress and scooted her over. Easy peasy. Once we got everything set up in our new room, my parents came to visit. I'd never really seen them around a newborn baby, since I was only seven when my youngest brother was born and didn't particularly care about anything that wasn't me. They adored her. They both fought to get to hold her. It was nice to get a chance to rest a bit, not that I'd done much besides hold the baby all day. We talked for an hour or so, and then they left to head up to Portland. Tamsen and I stayed here at the hospital with Edith. Soon Tamsen tried to get some sleep; I just sat and held Edith as it got darker and darker.

Everything feels really sedate right now. I'm sure things will liven up in the morning, and things will really get wild once Edith moves past her first calm day and becomes more active and fussy, but for right now, everything is very tranquil. It's been a good, if long day.

Everyone has been telling us all day long how much they love this new baby. We love her, too.

#359, in which deep, calming breaths are taken

Our baby is coming today. I'll probably post pictures of her later, but for now, if you'd like updates on how things are going, you should head to my Twitter feed (@TheRealSamOrme). And if having and maintaining a Twitter account just isn't your thing, you can always follow along on the handy widget I've created below. Tweets by @TheRealSamOrme

#358, in which I'm starting to get the hang of this

New puzzle today. Maybe no one else actually does these? Or maybe none of you care to give feedback, I dunno. Whatever, here's a new puzzle I hope you LIKE IT


Direct link to puzzle
Link to PDF

#357, in which a father's day gift is presented

I made a crossword for my dad for Father's Day, because of course that's what I did. You're welcome to try it for yourself, but bear in mind that it's made for him, so if you don't know him, some of the clues may make less sense. (The title "What a Gas" should bring you back to speed, though.)


For those complaining that the embedded window is too small to be able to see the clues properly (it is, I know!), you can do the puzzle on the site itself here, or you can always just print out the puzzle here.

If you do the puzzle, I'd love your feedback so I can figure out if these are too difficult (or if you'd like the answers, or whatever). Also, I'd be interested to know who is actually doing these puzzles so I can decide if I should keep making them, or make more, or some other third option.

I graduate from the University of Oregon tomorrow. Still have to revise my master's thesis, but still, that's exciting.

#356, in which yup, there's another one

Here's another crossword I made today while watching a Jim Gaffigan special and eating cookies in my pajamas. I've also found an easy way to embed the puzzle, so you can do it right here from the comfort of your browser, if that's the way you roll.
If you're the type that would prefer to print it out and do it that way, that's cool, I'm not going to judge. You can print it out here.

#355, in which a crossword is made available to interested parties

I made another one. You can solve it, if you'd like. Or don't, that's cool too.

Click here to view and download it. Still not sure how I can make them solveable on the web, but that's a project for another day, I guess.

#354, in which there is another way

I thought about posting this after the Boston bombings; after the tornado today, I'm definitely posting it.

When horrible things happen, we're all pretty good at watching the news and being horrified by it. We check our phones, watch cable news, and feel awful as we see pictures and videos of carnage. We share the horror with friends, tell people to come home and watch it, and compound the misery. It gets worse and worse, and we let it.

It's not helpful. That's not to say that we shouldn't pay attention to bad news, but we shouldn't obsess over it. We shouldn't hunt for new pictures of dead kids and destroyed buildings. We shouldn't constantly refresh websites for the latest death toll. We shouldn't glue ourselves to police scanners to hear about fresh new horrors, especially considering much of what is broadcast on scanners turns out to be unsourced speculation.

You know what is helpful? Making donations to the Red Cross, either online or by texting REDCROSS to 90999. And then turning off the TV, the police scanner, and the Twitter feed. If it's updates you want, wait for 24 hours and get the latest (and usually most accurate) information on a piece of newsprint. You'll know everything there is to know, and you won't have wasted a full day feeling horrible about life.

And if you don't feel like that's doing enough, then you can pray for those affected. I know that's what I'll be doing today. Because it works, and because Oklahoma needs it.

#353, in which lyrics have been added

While preparing breakfast this morning, I started singing about my oatmeal to the tune of the song I use as my alarm every morning. The song is in the YouTube video below; feel free to listen to it and sing along. (RSS readers may not be able to view the video; consider this an invitation to come to the blog itself.)

Lyrics:

I love oatmeal

Tasty oatmeal

I love oatmeal

It's the best meal

Oat

Meal

I like my oatmeal

It's the best oatmeal

Better than boatmeal

It's oatmeal

I'll eat these oats

Wearing coats

On some boats

With some goats

Or some stoats

Maybe Croats

Not a rhyme

Oh well

etc.

I do this all the time in the morning, generally to my alarm song. It used to be a song from Mario Kart, which produced similarly hilarious effects. Try it sometime! Or not, whatever.

#352, in which the merits of various Doctors are considered

I've had Doctor Who sitting in my Netflix queue for a few years now. It's one of those shows that has been recommended to me countless times by countless people, but I never quite got around to watching it. And how could I, when there was so much else to watch? (Okay, pretty much just an endless loop of Top Gear, Phineas and Ferb, and MythBusters, but you get the idea. And a little Breaking Bad briefly.) I figured it would just sit there, staring at me, making me feel guilty for not giving it a chance for another few years until I finally got up the nerve to just delete it.

Until two weeks ago, when I was sitting in the campus cafeteria holding water in my mouth, trying to keep my toothache at bay while I did the Thursday crossword (which I'd already done; it was the HOTCORNER puzzle). I looked up at one of the TV screens and saw the Doctor Who logo looking back at me. The sound was off, but the closed captioning was on, so I figured I'd give it a chance. And funnily enough, it was fairly compelling. The episode was "The Eleventh Hour," and it was the first episode with the Eleventh Doctor. He seemed nice enough. The show seemed nice enough.

So I headed home, heated up my pack of rice, stuck it on my jaw, and played the first episode in the Netflix queue. Which was the first episode with the Ninth Doctor. This was not the same man as I saw in the cafeteria. There were mannequins running around. This was not what I signed up for. I watched the full episode, but came away feeling disappointed. Until I watched the credits and found that the person playing the Doctor was someone named Christopher Eccleston. I don't know much about Doctor Who, but I do know enough to know that I'm supposed to like David Tennant the best. So I did a little more digging through the queue and found an episode in which the Doctor regenerates. Maybe this has Tennant in it! I hit play and settled in.

It wasn't Tennant, but it was the rest of the episode I had seen earlier that day in the cafeteria. I liked this Doctor much better, and ended up watching a few more episodes. And then I got the bright idea to search on Google for the seasons with Tennant in them. Turns out they're the ones sandwiched between the two Doctors I'd watched. So I watched some of his episodes. (Different day now. I know this term has been pretty easy for me, but I don't have time to watch seven and eight episodes after I get home from school. I mean, usually.) Turns out they're pretty okay, and Tamsen likes them too. So now we're Doctor Who fans, I guess.

I'm still not sure I think they're as spectacular as some people seem to think, though. They're fun, and they're clever, and they go down easily enough, but I didn't come away thinking that it's the best show ever. Just a pretty solid show. But still! Now I am one of you, Doctor Who fans. Now we can make jokes about the TARDIS and Daleks and whatever. Sonic screwdrivers! Ha.

(I was going to write a bit about the Boston Marathon attacks today and how I feel about that, but I think I'll let that cool down a bit before I write about it. Not that I have much to say, really.)

#351, in which alphabet soup is consumed

The root canal is finished, but now I'm just left with a big hole in the tooth until it's filled on Wednesday. This means I'm only supposed to eat soft foods until my follow-up appointment. So it was that while I was waiting for my antibiotics prescription to be filled, I looked around to try to find some soft foods.

And I found this:

"So what," you may be asking yourself. "Alphabet soup, whatever. We've all been there." Not so! To my memory, I've never actually eaten alphabet soup before. (Alpha-Bits, yes.) So I bought a can of chicken alphabet soup so I could both eat something soft and become, as the label boasts, a Healthy Kids.

I didn't even have to wait to open the can to start having fun. Take a look at the back!

Riddles! The answer is "teapot," for those of you unable to solve riddles or read answers craftily written upside down. (I'm not really sure why the riddle is written on this guy's nose, either, or who he is. But we're having fun here, so I guess there's no reason to pick at nits.)

Of course, the whole draw of alphabet soup is being able to spell things out "Hi Dad" soup-style. (If you haven't seen A Goofy Movie before, I'll go ahead and give you a chance to remedy that before you finish this post. Not that you'll need to have seen it in order to understand the rest of the post, but just because I feel like we all should have seen it and appreciated the majesty that is Power Line by now.) So I heated up the soup, poured it into my bowl, and took a look. What could I spell?

RNTLB! TBAEG! Man, alphabet soup is fun. And delicious.

(Thus concludes my tooth-related adventures. Hopefully. I miss solid foods.)

(untitled 350)

I found out on Friday that I need a root canal. The endodontist was booked until Wednesday, though, so I've been spending the last few days surviving on Vicodin and trying to find out which foods I can and can't eat on a rotten tooth.

So I'll just go ahead and share what I've found with you here.

Foods I have successfully eaten since Friday

• Potato chips
• French fries
• One half of a chicken nugget
• Italian bread
• A banana (thinly sliced)
• Soup (tomato, tomato bisque, chicken rice)
• Ten oatmeal creme pies
• A chocolate Frosty

Foods I have successfully eaten since Friday, but only just barely

• Pizza (very, very slowly)
• Toast
• Chili cheese fries
• Ritz crackers

Foods I have attempted to eat since Friday, but failed

• Wheat Thins
• A banana (unsliced)
• Hashbrowns and onions
• A grilled cheese sandwich
• Soup (chicken noodle)

I'm looking forward to the root canal tomorrow so I can (hopefully!) get back to eating like a civilized person.

(untitled 349)

Tamsen and I headed to Seattle for a couple of days last week for Spring Break. We visited some friends, but mostly so we could justify a five-hour trip to a sports bar we really enjoyed on our honeymoon. (Verdict: The burgers weren't as good as we remembered, but the fries were better, so it evened out.) The highlight of our trip, as far as video documentation goes, however, was our trip to the Seattle Aquarium. (The videos are fun, but you may enjoy them more without audio, as it's just a bunch of people in the background making "boy, they look delicious" jokes.)

These fish are stripey, and therefore cool.

Jellyfish are bizarre enough normally, but they added colored lights to make it feel even more psychedelic.

These are baby cuttlefish. The fluttering of their fins reminded me of a cross between an octopus and a hummingbird. Weird, but fascinating.

Wait for it. This is a weird yellow fish.

Just some fish chillin'. Fish are friends.

This is a big fish. His friend is a little fish.

Otters! Everyone loves otters.

This fish was missing an eye. It was easily the most popular fish in the aquarium. People were falling over themselves to take pictures of this guy.

Summary: Guys, fish are neat.