Good morning, everyone. Happy Monday and welcome to the new work week. I don’t know about you, but for me work gets a little easier around this time of the year. The office gets a little quieter as most people take time off. Perhaps I would be a little more gung-ho about using PTO in these last two months, but there’s not much work to do anyway. Throughout the holidays, we avoid pushing new code out, and we avoid starting any big projects, so things kind of naturally mellow out. It’s a great time of the year to catch up computer chores, like emails and software updates. On top of everything, we have a short week with the work week ending on Wednesday. This might be a socially busy time of the year for us, but at least I can look forward to some down time in other areas of life.
Sip. How are the battle plans coming along for Thanksgiving dinner? Currently, my top priority is cooking as much food as possible to make more space in the fridge. We have so much action happening in there that I couldn’t even be bothered to save our mediocre leftovers from last night’s dinner.
Speaking of which, linking to the last night’s Chicken Gaston Gerard recipe, I caught a glimpse of the first video frame in which Chef Stephane has all the ingredients laid out on his cutting board. In plane sight, his mise en place included a cup and a half of heavy cream, and all at once it dawned on me that I accidentally omitted a major ingredient from the sauce. It’s no wonder why I had so much trouble getting the sauce to stay together - problems like that crop up when you leave out small things like a cup and a half of cream.
“Check it out,” said Marissa waving the leftover container. “You managed to make a little science exhibit, it’s like the layers of the earth.”
The chicken I had stuffed into a tupperware container sat on three distinct layers of congealed cheese, oil, and broth. Later in the night, I would flip it all right into the garbage can, letting the mess slip into the bin like a melting, fatty chicken popsicle. In the coming weeks after we’ve exhausted Thanksgiving leftovers, I’ll have to take another pass at the cheesy chicken recipe.
In other news, the big project of the week was the new desk we’re installing in our bedroom. To recap, we’re replacing my stubby little floating desk with a longer rounded one that reaches all the way to the end of the wall. I’ll work in the same place, but I’ll have a cozy “co-pilot” seat beside me, which will come in handy when Marissa and I plan out the week.
Rodney and I followed Marissa outside to retrieved the giant board from our shed, wrestling it out of the rest of the clutter and setting it on top of metal chairs. Marissa diligently translated the dimensions onto the board with a sharpie.
“This is the underside of the table,” she said handing us each a Sharpie. “So if you want, you cool dudes can doodle something.”
Rodney used his sharpie to add his own measurements to the table. Between the two of us, I was the juvenile one that wrote BLIPPI SUCKS in permanent black ink. With that, I exhausted my usefulness to the team and went inside to make a round of hot chocolate while Rodney and Marissa labored over the table. Rodney followed Marissa around with his plastic drill, his night vision goggles affixed to his face.
Later in the weekend, Marissa would set up the carefully cut wood on the deck to apply wood stain throughout the day. The table, now shimmering with a rich dark color, was starting to get us excited.
“I’m really proud of this one,” said Marissa. “I can’t wait to set it up upstairs.”
We also spent some time this weekend attempting to play Twister. We got the idea after watching Rodney hop around on the rug in the play corner, using colorful dots in the pattern as platforms in lava. After picking up our own official copy from Target, we talked Rodney into using up his after dinner Rodney time to try it out.
“Left hand green,” said Marissa. I groaned, bending over to plant my hand on the mat. Rodney stared blankly.
“Oh no, he doesn’t know left and right yet,” laughed Marissa. “This could be kind of difficult.”
I reached over and tapped Rodney’s left hand. “This one, dude,” I said. Rodney, acting like he was tracking with the game, smiled and tapped me on my arm in return.
The first game of Twister was a disaster, but things really got out of hand when Rodney got a hold of the spinner. He would march around with it the rest of the evening begging me to play spot on spot with him while he called out imaginary commands from the small wheel unfortunate - all terms he coined from his own imagination.
“Twister sucks,” I said, walking back into the kitchen after putting Rodney to bed.
“That was a hasty purchase,” said Marissa. “I should have seen the whole ‘left vs right’ problem coming. Honestly we should have just played hot lava on the rug.”
“At least he likes the mat,” I laughed. “He can incorporate it into a pillow fort or something.”
Twister sucks. To call it a “game”, I think is misleading. It’s about time we call Twister what it really is - a lazy, randomly generated yoga routine over a crinkly mat in close proximity to each other.
Thanks for stopping by today. Have a great Monday, everyone.