Good evening, everybody. Happy… Tuesday? It’s Tuesday, right? Being the middle of my New Year’s stay-cation, I’ve lost all sense of the cadence of a regular week, and it’s kind of liberating. Today felt like a Saturday. I slept in this morning. I had a half pot of coffee for breakfast while quietly working on the computer. On some level, I can’t help but be in Saturday mode - I think it’s physically impossible for me to wake up to my regular alarm if I have no work to get to.
Sip. Not that I have much going on anyway. With this big wad of gauze on my right hand, there’s only so much things I can get done around the house. Ready for the understatement of the week? I really miss having two hands to work with. Or at least being able to do things like tying a garbage bag, changing a diaper, or rinsing out a pan without needing to think so hard. I’ve found that most tasks work well enough if I just keep my injured finger extended straight out, like I’m holding a pretend gun, but there are some things that are no impossible.
I was even able to shower the other day. Marissa helped me tie a makeshift space bubble around my hand, which was… a strange experience.
Marissa has helped pick up the slack all week. She’s taken dishes duty, picked up an extra meal this week, and she’s even folding bread dough for me at night every half hour. Today we had the ultimate test of our communication skills. We had to cooperatively de-bone a whole chicken for chicken stock, gumbo, and grilled chicken breasts later this week. I nervously hovered over the cutting board while Marissa got to work. She picked up the chef’s knife that I had cut my finger on. I shrieked.
“Sorry,” I laughed, coming down from my panic. “I guess I’m still a little freaked out at that thing. Make sure you’re careful with it.”
Through interruptions, awkward miming, and silly gestures, I talked her through the whole chicken without even needing to touch anything. The dead bird was in good hands - Marissa did used to be an college anatomy TA after all.
Sip. Like I said, there’s not much going on this week. A beautiful canopy of fresh sparkly snow has given us even more reasons to stay inside. Rodney’s new batch of Christmas presents left him stuck in “Paw Patrol earth” for a little while longer, though he’s finally starting to incorporate his older toys. He’s been talking all week about Canada Man’s stunt show.
“Dada, wait,” Rodney said urgently as I was heading upstairs. “You’re gonna miss Canada Man’s stunt show. He’s going to do his big tricks.”
An hour after putting Rodney to bed, I discovered Canada man sprawled on top our living room lamp with his motorcycle parked below. I think his big trick involved leaping onto his motorcycle from a death defying height.
Not all of Rodney’s new toys were a hit. The harmless Blaze plush toy we bought for him never even had a chance to win him over. Marissa tells me that getting Rodney out of his room, she found the toy lying face down on the floor.
“Mamma, I don’t like this stuffed animal at all,” he said. “I hate it.”
“Hey,” warned Marissa. “That was a gift. And I don’t like you saying hate - that’s not a Rodney word.”
Rodney bounded back down the stairs, leaving Marissa and I in the hallway.
“He really can’t say hate?” I asked.
“Yeah, I don’t like that,” she replied. “What’s your stance.”
I thought for a minute. “I don’t know,” I laughed. “It’s kind of relatable. Have you ever opened up something that you just knew immediately you would never use?”
This happens most often to me with hoodies I buy on the Internet. Putting on a hoodie for the first time, I can immediately tell if it’s a keeper or if it’s going to shrink and be unwearable after the first wash. The fabric just feels a little too stiff. The sleeves barely cover my wrists. If I were a four year old boy, I could easily picture myself throwing a new hoodie across the room and saying “I hate it.”
“But you don’t hate gifts,” said Marissa. “That’s just being ungrateful.”
Of all the gifts we got Rodney for Christmas, I didn’t expect him to take issue with the plush Blaze toy. We’ve learned that his plush bedtime crew of the dinos, the giraffes, and corgi are a pretty tight crew, and they are not currently interviewing new candidates.
In other news, I’m getting excited for New Year’s. I love New Year’s. A fresh start. New hobbies and routines to kick off. This week, I’ve been dusting off my old org mode configs. The wheels are turning as I try to decide what challenges to take on next year.
For what it’s worth, I think New Year’s Eve is an under-represented holiday, and from what I can tell watching YouTube videos, the Dutch make a big deal out of New Year’s. They have fireworks. They make special desserts. They have special names for their resolutions.
That’s what I got today. I think I’ll close this scatter brained entry with a joke I heard today. Two mailmen crossed paths on their route and stopped to chat. One of the mailmen noticed a slug crawling on the ground. Without warning, the other mailman raised his foot and smashed the snail dead with his show.
“Why would you do that?” said the mailman.
“I was tired of that snail,” said the other mailman as he scraped the guts off his shoe. “It’s been following me all day.”
Thanks for stopping by everyone. Have a great Tuesday.