Monday, January 18 2021

Dear Journal,

Good evening, everybody. Hope your holiday weekend is going well, and that you did something way more useful with the extra time than I did. Sure, I could have cleaned something, picked up a book, or went for a brisk walk around the block. Even just staring out the window for an hour would have been more beneficial that what I went with. On these holiday weekends in the dead of winter, I revert back to an irresponsible college freshman. Marissa and I stayed up past two in the morning, both of us helping ourselves to one more IPA out of the mini fridge.

"I'm with you," she sighed the next morning. "I can't do those IPA's anymore - at least not as a nightcap."

From the morning on, the rest of the weekend was pretty much damage control. I tiredly slinked around the house, stealing naps when I could.

I'm reminded that fixing my sleep schedule is one of my 2021 resolutions, and it also happens to be the one that I've made the least amount of progress on. Just once I'd like to practice some will power and go to bed at a reasonable time on Saturday night, but it's too hard. When there's no work in the morning, the night always feels young.

That's all in the past now. I think we've finally napped ourselves back into functional adulthood - just in time to kiss the weekend goodbye and begin a new work week in the dead of winter.

I'm being too hard on us. Napping a weekend away is just fine too. Especially when the dog snuggles are this good.

Sip. We had a great weekend. Marissa painted a new mural on the dining room wall - a lovely swishing grey and black pattern with drips of shimmery gold. I like it so much, I don't even remember what it looked like before.

I finally got around to cleaning up my closet. My tech bin had spilled over into the rest of the floor, forming an unsightly pile of computer parts and cables. I set aside a pile of switches and other raspberry pi hardware to sell on ebay. I also found at least five other hard drives that needed to be decommissioned. These drives were practically fried from my last setup. As much fun as it was to drive my other two over to geeksquad for them to hit it with a hammer, I saved myself the trip and asked Rodney to do it instead.

Remember those cinnamon rolls we had earlier this weekend? I got some flack for not posting a picture. Here they are in all their gooey, sugary splendor.

Another stand-out in this weekend's menu was Marissa's Korean street toast. Two fried pieces of white bread, a patty made from fried egg, cabbage, carrot, and green onion - finished with warm ham and cheese. Following the authentic recipe, we topped the sandwich with ketchup, mayo, and white sugar.

Our rendition of Korean street toast will probably be a one hit wonder at our dinner table, and we all had our reasons. Rodney mainly protested the fact that it wasn't a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Marissa finds the combination of ketchup and eggs revolting, but being a team player she stuck it out anyway for the sake of the experience.

"I'm always up for challenging my pallet," she confessed, "but I was retching- while putting them together in the kitchen."

I consoled her. "It's OK to have food boundaries," I said. "I mean, I don't. I would try ketchup and eggs on top of a horse steak if someone told me it was a regional delicacy."

To be honest, I thought the sandwich was going to rock my world. But for a guilty pleasure kind of meal on fried bread, it just wasn't guilty enough.

On the subject of food, it was a weird eating weekend. The whole family feels like it's just a little bit off kilter. I put in a grocery order tomorrow, and the theme of the next few meals is definitely going to be eating normal things. Pork. Chicken. Green beans. Soup. And at least for this coming week, staying as far away from ketchup, eggs, and very hoppy beers as possible.

Before I move on with my night, being a Monday I suppose I own you fine people a chump of the week. This week's chump is loved by many. He's an adorable baby with a lovable smile and four silly protruding front teeth. He leads a life basking in adoration on Instagram and Facebook, but when the cameras go away he's a total chump. This chump of a baby must have dropped out of baby school before he had a chance to pick up two very important skills needed for a successful tenure as a baby: crying and crawling.

Not crying? That's not so bad, right? Wrong. Instead of crying, he shrieks. He shows us all four of his teeth and whistles with his tiny vocal chords. He sounds like a smoke detector. No crying, no tears. He just grins and screams - an unsettling combination.

And how does this chump of a baby get around? That's just it - he doesn't. The lazy bum can't even be bothered to keep his mushy little body propped upright, let alone crawl anywhere. Looking after this baby is like taking care of a fragile, wobbly porcelain vase - only it actually wants to fall over (and it shrieks).

Baby Miles - you're my chump of the week. Go shriek about that, you chump!

Thanks for stopping by today. Have a great night, everyone.