Sabra and I had always been very curious about the classes and events offered by the school, a local Chesterland establishment, and we both were very much looking forward to the evening’s dinner and festivities. The brochure from the school simply stated that it would be a romantic evening and included the night’s menu.

Thankfully, we have some very good friends who live nearby and were able to divvy up the Gaggle among them. So, my lovely wife and I were able to enjoy the night, just the two of us. This in and of itself is always a big deal.

We arrived with big smiles on our faces at the School, at which point we were told we needed to go down the road to the Institute. Both of us were confused, as we didn’t know of the existence of this other building less than a mile down the road. And it’s a large building indeed. Upon entering the lobby, we were treated to a formally dressed violinist beautifully playing love songs. Sabra enjoyed this, and with each new song she would smile again, telling me the song title, all of which were romantic, or so she told me.³

A hostess greeted us and gave us our table assignment, a carnation corsage for the wife, and a small booklet full of many of the recipes we would be enjoying that evening. We were told to begin with hors d’œuvres which were presented in a room all their own, and instructed to try as many as we wished. Coats hung, and with hands entwined, we walked into a grand kitchen decked out with a stunning array of appetizers. We each grabbed a plateful of some fine fare, made our way to table #22 and met some nice folks.⁴

Let me tell you, the first bite of food (and consequently every bite thereafter) was amazing. These people know how to cook! The entire meal, we were informed, was entirely prepared by the senior student chefs.⁵ Well, I think they’ve cultivated their trade very well indeed.

Loretta Paganini herself stood and welcomed us all to the Institute and thanked us for sharing the evening with them. She mentioned that since the women received corsages, then the men should receive something in turn. At that point, she instructed the women to give us a kiss. Twice.⁶ Cute, eh?

Then the first demonstration began. Throughout the evening something would be demonstrated and then served to us – really fun! The first course was roasted red pepper terrine with arugula sauce. Oh, my – delicious. Good food continued. Next came a small cup of lobster bisque. MMmmmmm….! After that? Artichoke agnolotti.⁷ This demonstration was as fun to watch as the food was good to eat. Loretta’s daughter, Stephanie Paganini, explained how they teach children to cook by using stories; for learning pasta, they told the story of Pompeii. Stories are always Sabra’s favorite part of any celebration.

And then, the main course:

• Salad with caramelized walnuts & chevre with champagne vinaigrette (not pictured).
• Panchetta-wrapped beef fillet medallions with balsamic reduction.
• Roasted asparagus bundles in citrus sauce.
• Potato leek torte.

OOoo-hoo-hoo, my. Thankfully, with the demonstrations and such, the pacing of the meal allowed time to digest so we were never uncomfortably full at any point. The portions, though not family sized, were adequate and packed with a symphony of flavors.⁸ I imagine this is what you would be getting at any 4-star gourmet restaurant. We were able to enjoy the food and not feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of it!⁹

Finally, we arrive at the favorite time of the meal: Dessert.¹⁰ We returned to the room that had housed the hors d’œuvres, but those were gone and had been replaced by a vast amount of desserts. I loaded up two plates¹¹ and Sabra one. Rather than describe, I’ll let you look at some pictures. Yes, they tasted as good as they looked.

After all that, the night ended with some real Italian gelato. I tried, and loved, the vanilla. Sabra let me have a taste of the carrot-orange-lemon. That one didn’t sit quite as well on my tongue. But they had one thing in common. Smooth! MMmmmMMmmmm.

Yes, this was a night to remember. Well worth the money. Well worth the time.

Plus, I had my wife all to myself for a few hours. That was the sweetest thing of the entire evening.

1. Actually, I bought it for her as a Christmas gift, which I gave to her by way of a card. Yes, fellas, I used one gift for two holidays. Live and learn.
2. The dinner was purchased from Paganini’s, but it took place at the International Culinary Arts & Sciences Institute.
3. Sorry, folks. I’m not at all hip as to what romantic music really sounds like. Perhaps it’s part of being a guy, or part of just being me…
4. Including, coincidentally, the manager of the local McDonalds and his wife. They were fun to talk with as the evening progressed.
5. Five of them, anyway. Yes, the meal from appetizers through to the main course was prepared by five chefs, who began the day at 8:00 am. The dinner started at 6:00 pm and didn’t end until after 10:00 pm. A long day indeed for this folks.
6. Apparently in Italy, you can spot the tourists by the way they kiss. Americans? Peck on the cheek. Italians? Kissing with gusto! TWICE!
7. I only knew it was agnolotti because of the demonstration. I thought it was ravioli. I’m not a food snob, so my apologies.
8. Anyone who has had the opportunity to see Ratatouille knows what I mean.
9. Which reminds me, Loretta had mentioned a couple of times during the night that we would finish just in time for breakfast. Seriously.
10. All the desserts were handled by another five student chefs, separate from the five that were over the dinner. My wife calls them the Sugar Plum Faeries.
11. Dessert sized-plates just aren’t large enough, let me tell you.

I rolled out of bed, when my lovely wife informed me that she had been having a couple of contractions. My stress level immediately went up a couple of notches.

“Are these pre-labor¹ or the real thing?” I asked her.

“I’m not sure,” was her reply. You see, it’s not unusual for Sabra to have the occasional labor pain weeks before her due date as her body prepares to eject the clone growing within. She had had a few contractions this morning, but they were irregular. So, after a bit of discussion, we decided that I may as well get the kids ready to go.² I did so, promised to call her to check up on her, and away we went.

I was a bit tense during the meetings,³ and called her a couple of times. Sabra said she had had one more, but none for an hour and a half during a phone conversation she had with a close friend.

My stress level was still a little high, but was declining since it seemed, to me, that we weren’t heading to the hospital soon. Sunday meetings over, I collected the Gaggle, loaded them in the van, and we headed home.

Upon arriving, I walked in to find that Sabra was having another contraction. Stress level climbing again. No, they still weren’t coming regularly, but they were “sharp,” as my wife calls them. This isn’t normal for the pre-labor stuff. Normally those would be dull. Uncomfortable, but nothing to worry about. “Sharp” meant that hospital might be in our future after all.

For the next several hours, she had a few more. But, again, not in any regular sort of pattern. She could have one, go an hour and then have three, then go another two hours before something would happen. Well, crap. Sabra had decided to begin packing her hospital bag, just in case, and I had been trying to help with that, just in case.

And then time was coming for another Sunday meeting, in which I was supposed to be singing with a men’s chorus. “Should I go?” I asked her. I was very worried/scared at this point, and didn’t want to leave my wife alone.

“Well, why don’t you see if Heather⁴ can take the kids during your meeting, so I can relax and finish packing. That would really help,” she answered.⁵

I had nodded my head, “Of course. That makes sense.” So, I called Heather, asked the favor which she accepted quickly. “You know, I think we should just plan on taking you over to UH⁶ tonight, after the meeting. Since Heather will have the kids anyway,” I mentioned. “Plus, I think I’ll just stay long enough to sing with the guys, then come home after.”

Sabra had agreed. So, off I went to drop off the Gaggle⁷ and head back to church. An hour or so later, I was heading back home. Sabra had finished packing and I quickly dragged out the suitcase to the van.⁸ She had had a few more “sharp” contractions and, to me, was looking like she was needing to get to the hospital, and within easy reach of painkillers if she needed them.⁹

And this, my friends, is where the real drama begins. At 8:00 pm, as we’re literally just heading for the door, the water breaks. Well, my stress/fear¹⁰ level just went through the roof.

“Let’s go!” I yelped. Towels grabbed and applied to seat, wife loaded, and away we sped. The planned route was to take Wilson Mills into Cleveland, on our way to UH.

Well, we had just barely passed under 271 and weren’t very much passed the Home Depot found there, when I’m informed that I had better turn around and head to Hillcrest Hospital, which is closer to our house, instead. “I’m not going to make it to Cleveland,” she says.

“Okay!” I yelp again. Yes, I’m scared. I quickly find a road to turn around on so I can turn around, jump on the freeway for the quick couple of miles south to Mayfield Rd. and thus to Hillcrest.

No sooner do I make that turn then: “Stop the car!”

“What?”

“Stop the car!” And so I do. My wife throws open her door and gets out.

“What are you doing?!”

“I just need to stand up a minute.” You see, she had been writhing in her seat, very uncomfortable and in pain during some contractions¹¹ and need to relieve the pressure. So she stood just outside the door, leaning on her arms on the seat, as the contraction passed.

She picks up her leg to get back in, when I hear: “Call 911!”

“Are you serious?!”

“Call now! Get over here!”

Well, that did it. I throw open my door as I’m dialing 911. I race around the van, and I’m too late. My wife has already delivered her own baby. She had caught the head in one hand, the body in the other. I drop down in a crouch to make sure she’s not on the verge of falling or dropping him. She climbed back in the van, and as we are making sure all is covered, she says, “It’s a boy!” The time? 8:15 pm.

Holy crap!!!

“911 operator. What’s the emergency?”

Huh? Oh, right! I had called 911. “We just had a baby in our VAN!” I’m yelling.

“Okay, sir. Where are you?” Why does she sound so darn calm?!

“Oh, uhm. Hang on, I have to look at the sign… We on the corner of Wilson Mills and Millridge. Please hurry! We just had a baby!”¹² I was yelling, I’m pretty sure.

“An ambulance is on the way.”

Mom and baby are covered up and put back in the van, heat is cranked up, and I’m shaking. I’m back in the driver’s seat, letting my dear, darling, beautiful wife know that help was on the way. Two minutes later, police are on site and my wife is assessed. This officer even remarked to me that she seemed markedly calm despite having just given birth. Three minutes after that, the ambulance arrives. My wife is assessed and loaded. I’m waved over to cut the cord. Soon, I’m back in the van, following the ambulance and police car the few miles needed back to Hillcrest.

What follows is a bit hazy in my memory. I remember walking into the ER after my wife on her gurney, a row of what seemed like 10 nurses lined up smiling, ready to receive her. Questions asked and answered, and my eyes only for my wife and our new baby boy. Holy crap! Did this just really happen? Yes, it did.

They’re home now. Mom and new gosling doing well. My life is enriched even further, and I love telling this story. Even more than the last one when I caught our baby boy in the hospital because the nurses and midwife had stepped out for just a minute.¹³

Denin Millridge¹⁴ Gosselin is home.

1. As I call them. You know, those Braxton Hicks things.
2. Sabra hadn’t been to church in a few weeks as sitting in the pews and chairs were extremely uncomfortable for her during the last bit of the pregnancy.
3. For those not LDS, you need to know that our Sunday meetings consist of three meetings, each one hour long, including our congregational meeting (Sacrament), Sunday School, and another meeting we call Priesthood or Relief Society.
4. Our WONDERFUL friends, Heather and Rich, had offered many times to help out in any way they could when the time came. We’re so blessed and happy to have them as friends, and especially to have them living five miles away. Oh, so close.
5. She kept saying she wanted to be supportive of my singing, at which I was rolling my eyes pointing out that LABOR and DELIVERY trumped singing any day in my book.
6. University Hospitals, in Cleveland, about a 30 minute drive from our house.
7. I had them pack jammies and other sundry over-night needs.
8. I should point out that I forgot to pack extra diapers for the youngest of them, so I had to make a diaper drop run before we left.
9. Though she has only used them once. No, seriously! au natural baby!
10. Ladies, I know, you are doing all the work and feeling all the pain. But this is the scariest time for us guys. Why? Because we are absolutely powerless to do ANYTHING, and we really, really HATE that feeling. Plus, it’s a time when you lay your lives on the line, and we could lose you. Yes, we hate that thought even more.
11. Contractions, as anyone knows who has been in labor, is worse when the water breaks.
12. Please note: I’m not completely certain on the accuracy of this call. You’ll understand.
13. I’ll tell that one some other time, if you want.
14. Yes, we named him after the street he was born on.

2009 was a year of relative stagnation for The Bearded Goose. I feel that I’ve accomplished very little, and I haven’t really progressed or grown over the course of those last twelve months.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as though I was sitting on my broad backside doing nothing. I had a large family to provide for. I had games to play and books to read. Movies and television shows were watched. Church was even attended. But, as I look at myself, I didn’t learn or do much of anything new.

Perhaps I’ve only lost track of those things I did do or things that helped me grow… But, frankly, I doubt it.

The only part of 2009 where I feel like I stretched myself a bit was in my involvement in the year’s production of This is Kirtland. I’ve had the large opportunity of being involved in that stage production for every year of its existence. The first year, I was cast in the part of Parley P. Pratt, in which I had to sing. In the following four years, I was cast as Christopher Crary, the narrator of the show, and obviously in which I had a large speaking part to memorize, but no singing. This did not make me sad.

In 2009, we had a new director and I was cast in the part of Newel K. Whitney, owner of the Whitney Store in Kirtland. And not only did I have to sing, I had to join in a short duet in the first song of the show every night. Singing is usually uncomfortable for me, but I found throughout the course of the rehearsals and subsequent performances that I really enjoyed singing. I found a bit more confidence in my ability and realized I could be a true participant in the show.

And that’s the only part of the year in which I felt that I progressed or grew in some fashion.

Pretty pitiful, no?

And so, with 2010 starting and the accompanying new year’s worth of resolutions to make, it occurs to me that, this year, I want to be sure to accomplish something. A good practice would be to make some goals surrounding these areas of a life: physical, mental, spiritual, professional and familial.

With that, throughout the month, I’m going to do something I’ve avoided doing for years. I’m going to make goals. Yes, ladies and gents, the Goose himself is going to write down things in which he wants to progress.

I guess this means I’m finally maturing. Well, crap.

How have I fared in these endeavors?

1. NaBloWriMo: Obviously, I dropped the ball on this one waaaaaaay back on the fourth, when I failed to post anything. And then I continued that trend up until today. Yeah, doing this whole post-every-day thing is tough. The hardest part, I found, wasn’t so much coming up with something to say each day, but which of the many somethings did I want to focus on. And, as is so often the case when I find myself faced with too many decisions, I instead pull out a game.¹ Heh.

2. NaNoWriMo: Well, this one, I’m not even completely sure why I put my name in the hat. My wife actually mentioned it to me, hoping that I’d take part. But at the same time, with our gaggle of soon to be seven goslings underfoot, I just don’t have the time to sit and put something down, whether analog or digital doesn’t matter.²

Though, if I were honest with myself, I’m sure I could mention that I spent a lot of time playing games³ or watching Hulu⁴ or any of many other activities of which I’m sure I could have set aside to actually write a novel.

But who likes to be honest with themselves?

3. HoNoToGroABeMo: Aaah, now this one. This one was easy. Unfortunately, since I can’t NOT grow a beard, I’m near the bottom of those with less-then-hairy faces. Yes, my blood cells apparently are as hairy as anything else on or in my body, so facial hair just likes to grow and grow and grow. But, the most wonderful thing about this gathering of geeks trying to not grow facial hair while not shaving is the fact that we’ve raised a rather sizable chunk of change! Yes, as of this writing, we are up to $1,676.25. This is nothing to sneeze at, considering especially that the initial thought was that we’d be lucky to raise $500. This is indeed overwhelming and humbling. Thank you to all who have found fit to donate to the cause.

And that’s it! Yes, of the three endeavors, I’m succeeding… well, I guess at none of them.

But hey! At least I’m being somewhat honest with myself. Ha!

1. Sometimes on Facebook, sometimes on the iPod Touch, and sometimes online with some Olde Fartz.
2. And it doesn’t help that I didn’t even have a story idea of any kind.
3. again
4. By the way, if you’re on there, friend me up.

1. NaBloWriMo (National Blog Writing Month), in which I shall endeavor to draft and publish a blog post each and every day throughout the month of November.

2. NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), in which I shall endeavor to draft up a novel, writing 50,000 words for it throughout the month of November.

3. HoNoToGroABeMo (How Not To Grow A Beard Month), in which I shave off the beard and let it grow back, all the while supporting breast cancer in Beards4Boobs.

So, yep, going to be a very interesting and busy month. Let’s see if I survive to my birthday.