Last night as I was trying to find some dinner, waiting for Baby Z to be born, I passed a number of Irish bars in the neighborhood. For some reason — and I’m not an alky — the lure of the bars was palpable. For some reason I was overcome with the fear that I was going to ruin it all — that I would lose my job, go broke, lose the house, etc. etc. — and make a poor life for the then unborn Zoe. I’m getting over it now, because looking at her little face (this picture was taken at age ~150 minutes), you can’t help but wonder if everything is perfect in the world. Happy birthday, Zoe. I’ll do my best.