Imminent

7 Jan 2006

............................2006 A name Odyssey
.............................
...........................0 0. Lurking about ....

Ok. So the Mrs K is now two weeks overdue and the baby is still not here.
So we can assume a certain tardiness or an ‘I’ll wait till I’m good and ready’ independence.
We, the parents, are over-ready.
We have performed all known rituals and to no avail. All that is left is castor oil. Maybe the oldest birth inducing tonic of all.
We’ll see.

Maybe the baby wont come until we have a name for it. We have plenty of girls names but it’s the boys who are causing the problems.
We’ve tossed a few ones around but mostly they kept spinning around and around, they were rejected, we let go of them and they flew out of orbit, into space.
Pinnochio, for instance, is headed for deep space.
It gave me great joy while it was here though. The absurdity of it.
Pinnochio.
The period of confusion followed by horror when I related it to the mother in law. Precious moments.
Thank you Pinnochio.

The other day I had a boys name revelation while listening to the ghastly ‘matinee idle’ show on the radio.
“What about ELVIS?”
“No one is called Elvis” I said eyes wide with anticipation.
But, sadly Mrs K’s withering stare spoke volumes about the way she felt about ‘Elvis’.
“No-one is called Elvis for a reason’ She said.
and the no-one that was never going to be called Elvis was jettisoned to the stars also.

ELVIS IN SPACE! SHOCK!!

Recently I intoned;
‘What about Jimi?”
“Jimi Jnr”
“jimi J”
I realised quickly that Jimi J would be destined to become a DJ.
(“DJ JIMI J - at the khuja Lounge tonight!).
It’s not that I dislike the idea of being a DJ it’s just that everyone seems to be one.
I was at a café the other day and the young guy (actually he was more of a haircut than a guy) basking in the glow of own his nascissism took a break from ignoring his customers to tell the pretty waitress the following;
“There’s record swap at real groovy I might check out”
Bored indifference from girl.
“yeah. I guess I didn’t tell you but, I’m a DJ. . .”
I laughed aloud.
They gave me a combined ‘whatever’ but, really as a chat up line it has to be one of the most clichéd, circa – 2006.

So if the baby is born a boy then it will have no name at the moment.
It will just be known most excellently as ‘the boy with no name’.
Which is kinda cool, like ‘the man in black’.

Interior of Film Noir Office – It
is poorly lit, has venetian blinds, a fan rotates slowly.
A man is hunched over a pile on the floor.
Humphrey Bogart walks in.
“What happened? Whats that smell?”
“The boy with no name was just here…
He left this . . .”

Close up of a pooie nappie.
Dramatic music.

Extreme close up of pooie nappie. .
very dramatic music.

“ARE MY EYES DECIEVING ME! or does that thing smell disgusting!”
In the name of god lets get out of here. .”
Exeunt Door
Bogie: “of all the smells, in all the office’s, in all the world. I have to walk into this one..”

Topically, the herald had a list of the most popular names in New Zealand in it today. On the list a few of our ones.
The name MAX was there, in the top ten. Which is bloody annoying because I thought it was an unusual name, but it seems to be unusually usual instead.

At the moment I don’t care what it called I just want it here. Out.
Reducing my sleep. Making me busy. Confounding expectations. And creating the smell that would make Bogart Exeunt (whoever made that word up anyway?)

IF nothing happens before then, Mrs K will be induced tomorrow night, so this will be my last blog as barren J Kumara.