Wednesday, January 19 2022

Dear Journal,

Good morning, friends of the blog. Happy Wednesday. Somewhere between sleepily brewing a pot of coffee, nodding along to Rodney's random comments at the breakfast table, reading on the couch, and taking an unplanned ten minute nap in one of the comfy dog beds on the living room floor, I turned a corner and found a source of energy I didn't know I had. If I had to put my money on it, I think the floor nap was the difference maker.

Tired or alert. Grumpy or chipper. Ready or not, it's time to start another work day. I'll toast to that.

Sip. Miles takes a good picture, doesn't he? What's his secret? How is he so photogenic at such a young age? I think I have him figured out - he saves his best for the camera. For a single sublime moment, Miles sat on the couch smiling and clutching his stuffed Blue, and Marissa opportunistically captured the moment on camera . Then when the camera went away, he probably went back to screaming.

Miles is at a tough age. He seems eager to head into his terrible twos. His single please has morphed into an angry demand. Priieeez. PRIIEEZ. PRIIIEEEEEEEZ.

Miles is also the worst kind of eater. He's not picky - we've seen him eat everything between steamed fish to tikka masala. But he rarely makes it through a meal without throwing a fit. This is because Miles has what we call "food fomo".

Driven by his own fear of missing out, Miles gets angry if his plate looks too modified from what we're eating. He throws his food if his pasta is cut up or if his pork chop is cut into little cubes. He hates it when I rip his pizza into tatters. If we're all dipping our food into a sauce that he can't reach, he'll blow a gasket. To keep things civil, Marissa and I have to do everything in our power to ensure Miles feels like he's eating with us - we let him gnaw on pizza crusts, dunk bread in his soup, and we even pretend to squeeze lemon on his paella.

Not to mention Miles is a bit of an asshole with his favorite foods. If Miles can see a bowl of bread or a pile of blueberries on the table, all bets are off. He will preez us to death until the blueberries or the bread are completely depleted, then he will ask for more. Miles is a bottomless pit - a dark void where the family stash of delicious blueberries goes to die.

"I blame myself," said Marissa at the table. "I shouldn't have eaten so many blueberry muffins while I was pregnant with him." I smiled, remembering Marissa's pregnancy cravings, and how quickly the two of us could polish off a four pack of Hy-Vee blueberry muffins. I guess everybody has a food that can resurrect the grubby little toddler monster within them. PRIIEEEEEEZ.

I think we've roasted Miles enough in this entry. How did Tuesday go? Exercise still crowds my free time. On Wednesday, Marissa and I spot each other through deadlifts, bench presses, and clapping push-ups. But we've discovered a breakthrough exercise hack that makes the time go by more quickly. We exercise while watching Seinfeld. The show makes us chuckle through the pain and fatigue of exercise. By the time we finish, I feel all the effects of working out without remembering any of the painful sensations. Maybe Seinfeld has a meditative effect on the brain? Maybe the closest I can come to contemplating nothing is just watching a show about nothing?

Still breathing heavily and dripping in sweat, I wasted now time after my workout to break out the server parts and make a little more progress with the new build. Last night I hooked up the tiny monitor to the new arm mount. The mobile home datacenter is really starting to come together.

"It looks like a little robot," said Marissa. "I feel like it needs a name."

Maybe I'll give it a name once it's all working. For now, I'm concerned with getting the router to boot. It's still unplugged lying on our bedroom floor from when it first died, but at least now I have a way to test it without wanting to put my foot through the wall.

In other news, I had some surprise molts happen over the holiday weekend. Leo did the deed, emerging from his old self as a slightly larger, slightly leggier spider. This was no surprise, as he was refusing food and sitting in the same spot for weeks.

The real surprise molt was Karta. Before her first molt, she spent weeks digging an underground sanctum. She sealed herself inside for months without food nor water, sitting perfectly still. At last, she flipped over onto her back and molted - a dramatic, climactic transformation.

This time around, there was no lead up. Karta didn't block her cave wall or reshape any of the dirt around her. She busted it out sometime in the middle of the night, and I wouldn't find the evidence until the next morning.

I think Karta is do for a rehouse soon. Suddenly she looks so cramped in that little cork bark cave. I already have her next hide picked out - I ordered a 3D printed miniature aztec temple.

That's what I got today. Have a great Wednesday everyone.