Elisa and I went to the midwife today, and we got surprising news. Elisa seems to be advanced for her pregnancy, and is already starting to dilate and efface.

Egads! What the hell did that mean?

Efface: shortening or thinning of the cervix.

Dilate: The opening of the cervix.

Which is really screwing up my World Series plans.

You see, the Cubs make the World Series once a century, and we may be witnessing one of those mystical and rare events this year.

I'm not kidding -- when Elisa and I first started dating, I told her:

"Just to be clear, I want you to know that I will not miss a Cubs World Series, if they should ever get there in my lifetime. I will be in Chicago to celebrate throughout the playoffs. And nothing -- NOTHING -- will prevent me from being there. Not even the birth of a child."

To which Elisa responded: "There's nothing to worry about. The Cubs will never make the World Series."

But now, believe it or not, Elisa is saying that I can't go to Chicago to celebrate. Yeah, I know. Crazy, huh? She's suddenly turned all selfish and demanding, saying "me, me, me, me" instead of giving me permission to spend time in the Windy City on a clear conscience. Heck, babies are born all the time. And I'm sure we'll have a second. I can even attend the birth of that second child.

But a Cubs World Series? Heck, that'll happen once in my lifetime. And if this is the year, is it fair for me to get screwed? I mean, I did warn her way back when! This can't come as a surprise to her!

But believe me ladies, there is no weapon more powerful than guilt. Anger I can shrug off (it's actually funny to me). But guilt?

Sigh...