Zoë Stagg

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One year ago today..
At ten-thirty in the morning dressed in blues we had no idea would match the water right behind us, we sat at a table with an officiant named Nigel who presided over a large, calligraphied ledger. Witnessed by the hotel staff — who’d also gathered white and pink flowers for my bouquet — we said “I do,” in front of the handful of hotel guests who happened to be overlooking from their porches.
And then we high-fived.
I think after making it through this year, a high-five encore is in order.. Here’s to a second year of enjoying all the new things the first one brought.
(This picture is about right. Him doing something serious requiring equipment, me doing the Lord’s Selfie iPhone work.)

One year ago today..

At ten-thirty in the morning dressed in blues we had no idea would match the water right behind us, we sat at a table with an officiant named Nigel who presided over a large, calligraphied ledger. Witnessed by the hotel staff — who’d also gathered white and pink flowers for my bouquet — we said “I do,” in front of the handful of hotel guests who happened to be overlooking from their porches.

And then we high-fived.

I think after making it through this year, a high-five encore is in order.. Here’s to a second year of enjoying all the new things the first one brought.

(This picture is about right. Him doing something serious requiring equipment, me doing the Lord’s Selfie iPhone work.)

One…

One photo, 34 weeks in, taken last weekend in Venice.

I have no week-by-week profile mugshots, no ultrasounds posted anywhere (in fact I still have to run through the list “Radar? No. Doppler? No. Sonar? What ARE those things called?” I end up calling them “zap and scans” which is even less scientific.) It just seems like a more private process, this making a human, than the prevailing internet consensus tends to make it.

Despite that, it seemed like having one to look back on wouldn’t be the end of the world.

To show her she lived in Italy, close enough to Venice to hop over for lunch, and that she started her life in a beautiful, inspiring place.

Begin as you intend to go on.

She’s also going to begin with her special lamby friend and outfit choices in her suitcase — and come home in the same pink frills that I did, 34 YEARS ago.

34 weeks, 34 years.

One photo, all in the timing…

“Can we play a DVD in this house?” (Fair question given that all electronics, including the lights, are operated by “magic” and a “server farm.”)
DVD springs to life on the giant screen.
“The sound is too bassy. I can’t focus on the words. Can you make the sound tinnier? I only like bad sound.”
Commands flash across the screen, “Surround” is corralled.
“I’m hot.”
Fan appears out of nowhere.
“Can you pause it? I need a snack.”
Paused.
There’s watching a movie on the couch, and then there’s watching a movie with an MVP entertainment concierge. Mine rates two thumbs up.

“Can we play a DVD in this house?” (Fair question given that all electronics, including the lights, are operated by “magic” and a “server farm.”)

DVD springs to life on the giant screen.

“The sound is too bassy. I can’t focus on the words. Can you make the sound tinnier? I only like bad sound.”

Commands flash across the screen, “Surround” is corralled.

“I’m hot.”

Fan appears out of nowhere.

“Can you pause it? I need a snack.”

Paused.

There’s watching a movie on the couch, and then there’s watching a movie with an MVP entertainment concierge. Mine rates two thumbs up.

GPOYW: The “Confirmed Today, It’s 99.9% a Girl and She Has HIS Feet” Edition.
“Oh, my. Don’t buy any newborn shoes.”
—Independent sentiments from two separate baby zappers. (I don’t care how big her feet are, as long the toes are arranged correctly — in size order.)

GPOYW: The “Confirmed Today, It’s 99.9% a Girl and She Has HIS Feet” Edition.

“Oh, my. Don’t buy any newborn shoes.”

—Independent sentiments from two separate baby zappers. (I don’t care how big her feet are, as long the toes are arranged correctly — in size order.)

Year: Two

In unrelated events, I got my Army Glamour Shot* taken today and I realized it’s my second anniversary of signing up.

Two years ago.

It seems like forever in as much as how my life has changed (surely decades would be needed to house all of it?) and like it’s gone so quickly. Part of me wants to name this photo “Crazy Aunt Zoë Was In the Army Once,” just in case the Bro’s kids’ kids use the Googles on a family history project someday, but the internet will probably it a chip planted in your brain by then, so probably no need.

In any event, milestone noted. And I’m excited for Year Three. I hear this is the year when you start finally understanding Beetle Bailey.

*I know it’s a Glamour Shot because there is a man out of frame pulling down on my jacket for all he’s worth to make it hang smooth and I have a binder clip making my collar fit tight enough. Glam.