Hello World!

My name is Michael Anthony Geller. I was born on March 18, 2009, which means I’m a Pisces, like my Dad. Though my parents desperately wanted me to turn upside down, I was insisting to sitting like a little Buddha in the cozy little womb I called home… and consequently, my birthday was (sorta) picked for me.

Here I am showing them where to stick the bottle…

My name was chosen because my parents like the way it sounds. But the more I think about it, I think there is some correlation with some of my forefathers. Specifically, my Dad’s grandfather was named Milton – which I think led to the Michael; and My Mom’s father was named Anatoliy – which I’m pretty sure resulted in Anthony. According to Wikipedia, Geller comes from German, Yiddish, and/or Russian. It also means “one who yells,” so my parents are in for a special treat!

Speaking of my parents, here they are again:

Mom

and Dad

On that great day last Wednesday, March 18, we were at a nice private clinic called ISIDA in Kyiv, Ukraine. Yep, I’m a Ukrainian! But wouldn’t you know it, even though I’m proud as hell to be born in The Ukraine, Dad has already insisted that I become an American – and so I’m supposed to get my picture taken sometime in the next week or two, and then I get my first passport from the American Embassy. Nice people over at the U.S. Embassy in Kyiv, I’m told. I guess that means I’m not allowed to be President of the USA, huh? Oh well… those guys are tight-asses anyway.

The birth was fairly easy, and my Dad took a lot of pictures (and some movies). Yes, he was in the room at the time with the camera in hand. It’s sort of embarrassing, but I think he even got a picture of me peeing all over the nurses when I was about 2 minutes “old.” One of the nurses even screamed a bit in surprise. The others giggled. Pretty soon thereafter, the nurses poked and prodded a bit, and noticed I was gaining color quickly. My lungs obviously worked. I tested them out about 10 seconds after leaving the womb.

Here I am, about 2 minutes old. Kinda gross, but kinda beautiful too!!!

Look, my cord is still attached!

I think Dad was amazed to see a live baby come out!!!

They put me on the scale and I weighed in at 3.44kg. Not too shabby since the doctors were saying I was average/small during most of my development. It just goes to show you how accurate those stupid ultrasound thingys are. For you non-math majors out there, that’s about 7lb 9oz. The nurse wasted no time in measuring me too… I was 54cm long and my head was 38cm in diameter. Also, not so bad. Not quite a Kareem Abdul Jabbar or anything, but I think I should be able to hold my own when I’m all grown up. Of course these measurements were taken over a week ago now (by about 12 hours), and I’ve probably put on a good half cm and at least 100-200 g.

I was immediately given to Dad and was taken out of the delivery room, and Mom showed up in the recovery room about 20 minutes later. I was quite comfortable being wrapped up like a little worm. They also left that little bit of “white stuff” on my face for a little while – I guess it has some protective qualities.

Though I didn’t want to leave my folks, the nurses took me away to where the other babies were gathering that evening; something like a “meeting of the minds,” I believe. I overheard my parents conversing the next day about what had happened. Mom needed to sleep, and Dad went home because he wasn’t allowed to stay. That was my first day… and the rest is (proverbial) history!

We spent a few more days in the hospital, learned all about baby care, and enjoyed round-the-clock attention. I’m now at home, and I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Whitey the Cat. I understand why they named him that — but I’m sure glad they thought about it more when they named ME!!!!!

Maybe I’m being sensitive, but I think Whitey is a bit jealous already. I hope to be better friends in the future.

That’s all for now. I’ll keep you updated whenever I (or my parents) do something cool 

Cheers, and thanks for reading,

– Michael

It is pure joy to announce the birth of our son, Baby. We have not named him yet, as Russian tradition does not demand such. We have some solid choices, but we will wait to make sure the name fits

The funniest thing about this is that there are, more or less, like only 10 male Russian names to choose from !!!

Anyhow, I wanted to let everyone know that Mom, Dad, and Baby are doing well.

Everyone is happy to be alive and so far, quite healthy. We are ecstatic about being part of a growing new family.

We will be posting more soon, obviously. But TODAY is the first day of our son’s life, and I wanted to post a picture or two. Even as I write this, he’s still not even 12 hours old!!!!

With Much Love, from Kiev,

Scott, Helen, and ???

Baby!

Mom!

and, Dad!!!!

She’s pregnant, and everyone knows it.

Shockingly, people are even offering their seat to my wife on the subway. I never thought anyone here would be so kind. Alas, I was wrong. I’ve seen it several times just in the last couple of days. Nice people…  that obviously know what it’s like to bear children. Even with all the winter clothes on (because it’s -5C), it’s still quite obvious.

It’s big, but it’s beautiful. And there’s no doubt that it’s going to get way bigger in these final few months.

If anyone has any sage advice for a father to be – please leave a comment!

I saw something on the Marshrutka (the little yellow city shuttles) today that I have never seen in the USA, though I’m sure it still happens in small towns and such. It was without question, a very introspective moment for me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it on a public bus in America.
I was going into the City (Kiev) to meet up with my wife and some friends, and I was listenin’ to my iPod with my Coopers cap and shades on. I was sitting on the left side of the busy, a couple rows behind the presumed grandmother. The bus, as usual, was somewhat crowded, and all of the seats were taken. Most people cherish their seats on these buses; remember that there are always 2 lines when waiting — one for sitting, one for standing. Therefore when you get on the stuffy often crammed-like-sardines shuttle buses, you (generally) get what you wait for, seat or aisle.

So on this day, all was usual. The bus was full. An older lady, most likely already a grandmother (babushka), was sitting in the solo seat behind the driver. The seat is unusual in that it is oriented sideways and faces the aisle of the bus. I believe it was added after production, just to offer an additional sitting spot. The older woman was sitting contently for her ride into the City. Just then, a couple of stops after I got on (and somehow got a seat), a young mother and her ~18 month old got on. Now remember, that people wait for seats – so it is quite unusual for someone to act upon their chivalrous thoughts [of giving up a seat] (though it does occasionally happen). Anyway, the mom and baby had nowhere to go because of the already stacking bodies in the central aisle, and nobody was giving up their seat. It’s a rough world out there, ya know.
The seated grandmother offered not the seat itself, but indeed, a place for the child to sit: on her lap. The mother immediately agreed without hesitation, concern, thought, worry, or creepy consideration of possible ulterior motives by the very genuine (looking) older lady. The child, also without hesitation, nor demonstrating any hint of questionable affect, turned and allowed the grandmother to lift him straight up and softly placed the little lad onto her right knee.

The mother was relieved, the child was exhibiting standard kid behavior, and the grandmother was hinting at a smile (though, sadly, the vast majority of Russians don’t [typically] smile unless they’ve been drinking).

Nevertheless, the scene was incredibly touching. Yeah, yeah, I know… I’m a softy. But it really was quite adorable. The grandmother was happy, the kid content, and the mother relaxed. Of course the mother kept an eye on the child… but honestly, I think she was relieved to not have to worry about her kid getting squashed during the ~20-30 minute ride. The grandmother was only slightly perturbed by the child’s lack of interest in her. She tried in vain to elicit an approving glance from the kid – but it was not to be had by this generous babushka. The kid was either drugged or completely oblivious to the fact that he was sitting on some stranger’s lap. Or, it was such a typical phenomenon in this culture, that looking up and acknowledging the conscientiousness of the lap-offering person would really just be considered a bonus for the offerer – should he or she be wanting it.
In the end, as we approached our final stop (where most people get off), the mother smiled and said balshoi spaciba (thank you very much), picked up the toddler, and exited the bus. The smile from the grandmother was reciprocated, and a good deed was done. The kid never looked up at the old lady. Crazy… but everyone was happy, healthy, and satisfied = without a creepy or questionable motive entering consciousness.

I’m even from a very liberal and friendly state (if you ask me); but nevertheless, at least in my experiences, that simply doesn’t happen (anymore) in the USA. Perhaps I’m just out of touch with the small town atmosphere in the U.S., but I’m fairly sure I would NEVER see that on a BART train, no matter how packed it was. As you might expect, I’m experiencing many cultural differences. This one came through loud and clear. Hopefully I can take the best from both worlds (cultures) and incorporate them into my being in the future — and contribute to a better world

Peace, Joy, Love, Happiness, Pup-n-Taco.

I have to say, Russians love their flowers. Sure, sure… every culture (that I’ve experienced) around the world appreciates the simple beauty of Spring flowers. They represent the essence of life in the plant kingdom and beyond.

All around Kiev they are planted, nurtured, and cared for in places that you wouldn’t (per se) expect them. There are plenty of places where where there’s nothing but concrete, rubbish, detritus, garbage, junk, trash… it looks as if nobody cares about the spot, and nothing is going to get cared for there — but then, then you see a beautiful patch of Lilies in the middle of nowhere. And right then, you look over, and see a shortened and old brooded grandmother on her hands and knees, watering and tilling the soil that supports these phenomenal expressions of natural beauty.

I can’t say that I’ve taken many pictures of those flowers in the middle of nowhere, but I have taken quite a few at and around our summer house.

Here’s a selection:

These are from our potatoes:

And the rest of the pics below are from the field. In just a small area were I busted out the camera, I saw several small and very beautiful flowers as part of the ground cover.  There are many more, but here are a few pics.

Ahhhhh — I wish you could smell them all too. Maybe someday

Well, I suppose this adventure started when I met my wife in San Francisco. It seemed like a fairly straightforward beginning to a relationship. Thanks to Craigslist, and her willingness to respond to an admittedly one-sided and needy post, I met her at Starbucks for a cup of coffee back in July, 2005. The first few hours went by like a bullet train in the night. I was brutally honest, figuring that I have nothing to lose, really. My last few dates were pathetic – so what was one more? She was inquisitive to the core. Apropos, considering she’s a shrink (which I discovered after about an hour of blabbing). We closed down that fine coffee-swilling establishment that night (first time in a long time), and I asked her if she’d be keen to grab dinner.

*** I knew she was a keeper when she said yes, strapped on the extra helmet I cleverly brought with (just in case), and we rode into the Mission for some nuveau Chinese cuisine.***

I brought her home on the trusted 2-wheeled steed, and smoothly deposited a shy, sweet kiss on her right cheek, “goodnight.” I got bugs in my teeth on the ride home over the bridge. A simple kiss after a wonderful evening with a beautiful woman, and I was lofted into the heavens like a 12 year old boy seeing “that girl in the hall” while running between Spanish and Social Studies. There were butterflies. Plenty of them. But somehow I knew this was real.

The teaser, for me, was that I was off to Costa Rica the following week – for a TWO WHOLE WEEKS – and we didn’t’ have time to catch up again before departure. Just as well — you shouldn’t seem tooooo interested, right? Nevertheless, from the moment I left her in front of her apartment near USF, and throughout my entire (epic) trip to Guanacaste (Costa Rica), I could NOT get her out of my mind. I even told my buddies that she could be “the one.”

So, what about the “adventure” part?
Well, the kicker is that she is not an American. Wouldn’t you know it! I could sense something in her way, and my semi-unsophisticated (not really – but I think I was drunk with adoration) ear could only tease out the subtlest of inconsistencies in her speech. Sure, I figured she was not quite a native Californian, but regarding the possibility of her being raised outside the States for over 20 years – nope, I (you) wouldn’t have guessed it in 100 years. I’m a native Californian myself, and I swear, she sounded (and still sounds) like someone who grew up around the Bay Area, or at most, in one of the States west of The Rockies. She looks pretty much like a California Girl, as well. I was quite surprised to find out that she was (is), in fact, 100% Ukranian. I kinda wondered the same thing my Grandma wonders to this day – why did you have to go and fall in love with a Ukrainian.

–> And so, on with the rest of my wonderful adventure…