17 more days to the due date!

I feel a little ashamed that Zoe's due to make her debut in 17 days and I'm not packed yet. I mean, there's not a lot we need to pack, we only live like 8 minutes from the hospital, but I don't have extra clothes, the camera's not packed, the tripod's not packed, the video camera's not packed (though there is a fresh tape in there, give me that...) It's like we're banking on her coming right on time or something. Since my wifes' labors have been getting shorter and shorter, one would assume that we'd be a little more cautious.

I am slowly but reluctantly coming to terms that I am not of a manly persuasion. I mean that in a sense that I'm starting to realize that I'm not really macho, and perhaps may even qualify for the title, "Delicate Boy." I'm berating myself because tonight, while attempting to take several photos for a photo contest, we had to be on an overhead bridge on top of a busy road. Since it's on a hill, the road stretches far ahead downhill, and all the while I was taking the picture, I had these fears:

My camera was going to fall over the bridge and break;
I was going to fall over the bridge and freakin' die,
The bridge was going to collapse, and my camera would break, and I would die as well for good measure.

Did I worry about my wife? No. Not because I didn't love her, because I do with all my heart, but she didn't have this stupid fear of heights. I'm also petrified of paintball, mostly because I guess my head resembles some kind of target for people. I never get shot in the arm or leg, no. It's my head. Find the most unprotected area of my noggin and take a shot at it, please.

So anyway, the picture turned out okay, but I might go back out tomorrow night to attempt another go at it. There are other manly things that I'm not capable of doing, but I kinda forgot them in the middle of writing about the bridge incident. Oh well.

Let it be known too, that I can sing in a higher pitch than my wife.