I woke up this morning in a slight frothy panic at the amount of work that still stands between me and the end of my holidays. However, events have conspired to keep me from my marking pen, so I guess I'll have to be anxious tomorrow, too.
For one thing, I woke up late, again. After breakfast & a shower, we left the house to look for Pixie's xmas present: a meat grinder. The Boy, assuming that we lived in a grinder-rich area of commerce, wandered from store to store like a dejected Diogenes. We finally found one in a Home Hardware 3 minutes from the Boy's mom's house, where we had gone despite our lack of success. (It was the weirdest thing. After an hour of luckless searching in B-ton, they were to the immediate left of the door, like an impulse item. It reminds me of a story Poet used to tell about Margaret Atwood and Honest Ed's and plungers.)
It is quite possibly the coolest kitchen appliance I have ever bought. Pixie will be using it to grind up hearts and gizzards (mostly gizzards) for her kitties, but she could very well start making her own sausage. I wouldn't put it past her.
ja wohl, mein fleischhacker
The afternoon was spent in family visiting, toddler style (which is like regular family visiting except with more deliberate accidents, more endless coaxing and more feelings of anxiety and shame). Blake had an off day today, and we have been butting heads nigh continually. Yes, he comes by his stubbornness naturally. He also comes by his hell-raising naturally, for it is foretold that in each Rocketfamily generation there will rise a Toddler, one who will test the limits of every nerve and leave a trail of salty destruction in its wake. We're just the lucky conduits.
Amy gave me a shout out, which made me happy. Amy generally makes me happy, but the shout out makes me especially happy, as one of my not-so-secret desires is to be missed when I'm gone. Knowing that I am is lovely.
(As to the hat thing, I decided that 2007 was the Year of Wearing Dirk's Hat, which caused him to wonder if I could handle that much hat. Phah. I'm twice the woman he is. And though I'm not as fond of his winter hat as I might be, I am as firmly devoted to Tilley hats as he. I loves my Hemp Tilley.)
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*