Category Archives: Entertainment
Little E has a little sister, C! E is 2+ and C just hit the 8 month mark. S and I are managing better than expected. C is a champion sleeper, and an all around “happy baby”. She rarely fusses, her smile is gigantic (and infectious) and despite what must be some painful teeth just under the surface, continues to squeal, chirp and babble like everything is AWESOME!
We’re getting ready to move house, and work is busier than ever. In fact, S just got a promotion, and she’s excited, if a little apprehensive about the new responsibilities. And for me, I could fill every waking hour (and some non-waking) with meetings, slides, spreadsheets and Twitter streams. And vendors. Lots and lots of vendors. Still trying to find that perfect work/life balance. It seems to shift every day! Perhaps I should call it a work/life pendulum?
All in all, things are great. We just need to find time to rest, be together as a family, and enjoy this stretch of good fortune. I can’t say blogging is high on my list of priorities. We’ll see if I re-evaluate after we settle at a new address.
UPDATE: We sold the house! Or at least…we have an accepted offer. 7 days from listing to offer. Not bad! Today is the inspection. There are strangers poking around the dark places of my castle at this very moment. (If you just snickered, I can forgive you.) Hopefully all goes well. And if not…well, it’s a great house in the summer. Too bad half my horseshoe pit was usurped for a sandbox!
A tiny, translucent, razor thin, half-dollar-sized sliver of clean. A bar of soap. Or rather, what’s left of one. Barely bridging a ½” gap in our Linen’s N Things shower rack, it looks more like a soggy, misplaced fragment of a potato chip than the object by which you’ll scrub away your stink/shame/sleepiness.
This isn’t a shared shower. It’s not the gym. It’s not a dorm. It is the only full bath in a single-family home shared by me and my wife. Did she leave me this pathetic excuse for a soap bar, preferring a smelly, disoriented and incrementally cranky ‘morning Jon’? Did I do this to myself? Did I shower in my sleep? Slipping out of bed in the wee hours to dissolve and subvert more conscious efforts to start my day on the right foot?
I’ve been down this road before. In my grogginess, I will invariably reach for ‘the sliver’, knock it from its perch, and watch it fall between the wires and head for the drain. I’ll scoop it up, rest it in the palm of my hand…and then spend 4 minutes trying to work up anything resembling a soap-like lather. On the bright side, my hands will end up clean. But my attempt to transition this hand-cleaning lather into a body cleaning coverage? Look again. The sliver’s gone.
Our family is low maintenance. I won’t find a $20, gold-laced luxury bar from Lush waiting as a back-up. Body wash? No. Shower gel? Fugitaboutit. Loofah’s? I’d rather stink. I suppose I could use shampoo. But on principal, I refuse to use Head and Shoulders below the shoulders. This leaves me out of options. I have to leave the shower to find some soap.
How far will I have to go for a spare? Will it be under the vanity, just a half step across the bathroom? Will it be in the linen closet, three steps outside my infinitely warmer morning fortress of solitude? And forget about the basement pantry—dingy, frigid and an impossibly distant two flights down. And then there’s the issue of being sopping, sopping wet. First, consider the season. Say it’s summer. Do I make a break for it, attempting to limit the water damage by bolting out of the shower and breaking for the vanity and closet? (pray I don’t slip on the hardwood) Winter? In my un-insulated house? Hypothermia will set in before the first drip hits the floor. I’ll have to dry off. This will turn my clean, light, warm, dry towel into a heavy, damp, cool and far less cheery rag.
Don’t underestimate the role my towel plays in my morning routine. My towel, well used, often laundered, fluffy and highly absorbent, nurses me through the transition from the warm/soap smelling/semi-sleep shower experience to the bright eyed, deodorized, dressed, buckled and buffed cube-meat that leaves the house each morning. If I have to dry off to conduct my search, I run the risk of ruining an already compromised routine.
Where does this leave me? Between a rock and hard place.
One way or another, I’m leaving the shower in search of soap. And for most of the New England year, I’ll need to dry off to survive the experience.
It’s time to get creative.
What if I use my wife’s towel? It’s only fair, right? She was last to shower, and ‘you kill it, you fill it’ should apply to soap just as it does to TP, the Brita filter and most items in the liquor cabinet. (Oddities like Pisco and treasures like single-malt excluded. You leave something like that in the cabinet, your fault.) She’ll never know. And besides, her towel will be dry by the time she goes to use it again tomorrow. Yes! Problem solved! I can dry off, find more soap, and finish my shower knowing a dry fluffy towel is waiting for me. Bonus! I can start my day feeling like I’ve already accomplished something.
Ok, let’s do this! Wait…why is the water getting cold? And how long have I been standing here?
Went to see the new Woody Allen flick last night, Midnight in Paris. Admittedly, my expectations were low. Woody Allen? Romantic comedy? Owen Wilson and Rachel McAdams? Was this just going to be a much less funny version of Wedding Crashers? But it was my wife’s suggestion, and I’d recently ‘dragged’ her to see , so figured fair was fair.
Maybe it was because I had my expectations so low, or because I really didn’t care if the movie was good or sucktastic. (I was more interested in my wife”s satisfaction with our date). But around 20 or so minutes into the film…I was smiling. The movie did NOT go where I expected it. And when it was all over, I was surprised how it seemed to have gone by so quickly. Owen Wilson did a great job of being…Owen Wilson. Kathy Bates, perfect. Adrian Brody, funny cameo. And Corey Stoll (an unknown to me) did a great Hemingway.
No, there were no explosions. No aliens, blood, gore. Heck, I don’t think I even saw a gun.
But I did leave with that rare feeling of unexpected movie-going satisfaction.
…Woody Allen! Who knew?
The P’s will be throwing a full-on, all out, dressed to the 9’s, pinky-out, place your bets, we-need-more-mint Kentucky Derby party on Saturday the 7th.
Invitations are pending, so check your mailbox later this week! We’ll have page on this site where you can volunteer to bring something to eat, play, or generally admire. Meanwhile, feel free to call us with any questions.
We look forward to seeing you!