Good morning, people of the blog. Happy Tuesday. Today, I don't know what makes me feel more appreciative. Is it the warm, mild sunshine peeking through the curtains? Is it the hot pot of coffee sitting in the dining room? Or is it a whole day of work without meetings?
No meetings for the entire day - that's like the work equivalent of seeing a rainbow. Maybe even a double rainbow. It couldn't have come at a better time. I have lots of writing and paper work to do, and I'm prepped to spend all day at the ol' word processor if that's what it takes.
It's a quiet scene here on the homestead. Minnie finished her solo morning romp a few minutes ago. She crashed on the couch beside me. Watching her sleep, it's hard to imagine that she has ever done anything wrong in her life, but the ripped up roll of toilet paper roll in our bedroom tells a different story.
No, It's not the same mess from yesterday. This is a fool me twice situation. After cleaning up her toilet paper party yesterday, Marissa wisely relocated all our spare roles to a higher shelf in our bathroom closet. But we didn't account for the roll hanging next to the toilet, and we sure as hell didn't account for Minnie being clever enough to detach it.
I don't know the solution here. Do we just have to stop using toilet paper? Maybe as a family we can use this an excuse to take up the bidet-only lifestyle without judgment. Minnie's addiction to toilet paper left us with no choice. We had to become bidet people.
Sip. Have you checked on your stash of spare toilet paper? More importantly, how is your week going so far?
We had a busy day yesterday. I hit my backlog of missed work from Friday vigorously, breaking up the day with an afternoon walk around the block with Ziggy. The afternoon rolled by, and knowing that ice skating practice was near, Rodney proceeded to ask me for updates every twenty minutes. "Dad, is it time for skating yet?"
"It's quiet time," I snapped. "That means be quiet."
Marissa and I would talk about Rodney's ice skating journey later that evening. "I'm trying to do little check-ups with him," she said. "I never want him to get into a situation where we're pushing him into doing something that he doesn't enjoy."
I shook my head and laugh. "We do not need to worry about that with skating," I said. I filled her in with all the details I'm lucky enough to witness on a weekly basis.
On ice skating days, Rodney keeps his skates beside him pretty much all day. Along with prompting me for real time updates, he spends his entire quiet time staring at his skates. Finally, I crack open his door to find him beaming with pride. It's time for the ice skating ritual.
We drive to the rink and find a spot in the back to drop our stuff. I tie his skates, looping the slack laces around his ankles just the way he likes it. He's in a hurry to rise to his feet and wait at the door. He waves to his teacher. He hops in place until the kids are invited onto the ice.
"And then there's his warm-up dance," I told Marissa.
"Warm-up dance?" she smiled.
"He does it when all the kids are waiting at the red line for instructions," I said. I showed her my best impression of the Rodney warm-up dance. Shake your arms loose. Puff out your chest. Roll your head around the way MJ did on the coach bus before that Utah Jazz playoff game. And then a sharp smack on the helmet to really get the blood pumping.
Marissa and I both laughed at the image. "He definitely loves it," I said. "And the whole time watching him, I have a stupid smile plastered on my face behind my mask. The way he takes to the ice makes me sure we're in it for the long haul."
After practice, Marissa happily listened to Rodney's version of ice-skating practice. He told her about doing toe-tips and playing the rocket ship game while Marissa finished making dinner.
We had a zoom session with the college friends. While waiting for people to join the call, Rodney and I spruced up the super worm tank. After noticing the worms bunching up in the corner, I decided to add a cut up egg carton. The simple accessory dramatically improved morale. The egg carton is a game changer. The shy worms can hide inside the cups and cling to the bottom. The bolder, fatter worms can climb to the top and command their own sovereign cardboard mountain.
"My sling enclosure shipped," I told Marissa excitedly. "It's adorable."
"I'm tired of talking about the spider, when are we just going to heckin' get it already," she teased.
While we stood outside watering the plants, I explored the difference in how we raise pets. "You just order corals and fish, and figure it out when they get here," I said. "I can't do that. I have to obsess about an animal for at least a month before I finally take the risk."
Eric and Lauren, then Jordan and Vanessa joined the zoom call. We discussed Jordan and Vanessa's upcoming wedding reception. "Do you have any jobs for the reception, Jordan?" I asked.
"Not really," laughed Jordan. "I don't feel like I'm involved in the planning at all. I just made a list of people on my side."
Eric and I nodded in approval. "That's more than I did," I said. "Marissa had to extract my guest list out of me. She'd ask me questions like 'Hey, where does your Uncle Steve live?'"
"Did you have any jobs, Alex?" asked Eric.
"I literally just the music," I replied.
"See I didn't even do that," said Eric. "I felt like my only function was to just stay out of the way. Why hold things up?" Sitting beside him, Lauren nodded in support with a smirk.
Comparing our roles as the groom in wedding planning, we concluded the bar remains piteously low. One job, like music or half the guest list, is honorable. Zero jobs is honorable too. "I had a passive role," said Eric. "The way I see it, I kept things moving."
That's what I got today. Thanks for stopping by everyone.