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See how they run...
It's getting late in the day, and I an bloody exhausted already. And I can't relax when I get home because it's Tuesday. That's right, Tuesday, when I have to, in essence, drive at oh... Mach 4.3 down 495 and 290 to get home in time to get my kit upstairs, program the VCR, get back into the car, and drive the 2 miles into town to Medical Center for the childbirth class, and hopefully be able to grab something for dinner before the class begins.
I don't relish running at warp speed after a long day. The class itself is fine, we're learning quite a bit, even if it may spike C's worrying at times. Me, I'm just sitting there, rolling with it. (I've been calling it good ukemi, for those who are familiar with the term.) I may not remember everything that's said in the class, but I'm going to be there for here, and hopefully common sense will take over.
Barring that, I will strongly suppress and fight the urge to panic, run in circles, scream and shout.
If that fails, there better be someone with a Thorazine dart ready to take me down.
If all goes right, the only screaming I'll do is one of joy, outside the hospital, after Marcus arrives. It'll be one of those "This Guy Goes Nutzoid" dances for about five seconds, then the calm, cool, collected me walks back into the building. (Think of Wesley Snipes in Major League after the tryout cuts.)
However, I digress.
Next week will be rather busy for me. Dad's class Monday, Birth class Tuesday, Aikido Wednesday, and I think there's a Child Safety class that Thursday. Good Gods Above, when am I going to actually cook anything next week?
Speaking of cooking, I did a really good meal last night -- two top round steaks, each like 3/4 lb pre-cooked weight, marinated in one of those packeted mesquite marinades for an hour, then set under the broiler. I did mine to the medium-rare, while C likes hers more medium. We each have half a steak leftover for later in the week. Put that with a salad and some crunchy potatoes (a Paula Deen recipe from Food Network... don't think I did it quite right, not sure if the corn flakes -- the crunchy bits -- were crushed fine enough), and it was a good meal all around.
Next chance to cook is Thursday. Might be chicken night again, but not something marinaded.
Ye Gods, I'm tired.
At lunch here, I read. I enjoy reading during meals. I'm nearing the end of Going Postal by Pratchett, or at least getting to a really exciting part, where I don't want to stop reading. After that, it's Gateways by F Paul Wilson, the next-to-latest in his Repairman Jack series. I'd love it if Dickhead Marcinko or Andy McNabb put out another book. I know each book is rather similar to the previous ones, but hell, they're a fun read. Either that or a new SEAL Team Seven book. Mind candy. As if my comics weren't mind candy enough.
Anywho... enough on this...
Nothing more to report
Carry on, my wayward son
It's getting late in the day, and I an bloody exhausted already. And I can't relax when I get home because it's Tuesday. That's right, Tuesday, when I have to, in essence, drive at oh... Mach 4.3 down 495 and 290 to get home in time to get my kit upstairs, program the VCR, get back into the car, and drive the 2 miles into town to Medical Center for the childbirth class, and hopefully be able to grab something for dinner before the class begins.
I don't relish running at warp speed after a long day. The class itself is fine, we're learning quite a bit, even if it may spike C's worrying at times. Me, I'm just sitting there, rolling with it. (I've been calling it good ukemi, for those who are familiar with the term.) I may not remember everything that's said in the class, but I'm going to be there for here, and hopefully common sense will take over.
Barring that, I will strongly suppress and fight the urge to panic, run in circles, scream and shout.
If that fails, there better be someone with a Thorazine dart ready to take me down.
If all goes right, the only screaming I'll do is one of joy, outside the hospital, after Marcus arrives. It'll be one of those "This Guy Goes Nutzoid" dances for about five seconds, then the calm, cool, collected me walks back into the building. (Think of Wesley Snipes in Major League after the tryout cuts.)
However, I digress.
Next week will be rather busy for me. Dad's class Monday, Birth class Tuesday, Aikido Wednesday, and I think there's a Child Safety class that Thursday. Good Gods Above, when am I going to actually cook anything next week?
Speaking of cooking, I did a really good meal last night -- two top round steaks, each like 3/4 lb pre-cooked weight, marinated in one of those packeted mesquite marinades for an hour, then set under the broiler. I did mine to the medium-rare, while C likes hers more medium. We each have half a steak leftover for later in the week. Put that with a salad and some crunchy potatoes (a Paula Deen recipe from Food Network... don't think I did it quite right, not sure if the corn flakes -- the crunchy bits -- were crushed fine enough), and it was a good meal all around.
Next chance to cook is Thursday. Might be chicken night again, but not something marinaded.
Ye Gods, I'm tired.
At lunch here, I read. I enjoy reading during meals. I'm nearing the end of Going Postal by Pratchett, or at least getting to a really exciting part, where I don't want to stop reading. After that, it's Gateways by F Paul Wilson, the next-to-latest in his Repairman Jack series. I'd love it if Dickhead Marcinko or Andy McNabb put out another book. I know each book is rather similar to the previous ones, but hell, they're a fun read. Either that or a new SEAL Team Seven book. Mind candy. As if my comics weren't mind candy enough.
Anywho... enough on this...
Nothing more to report
Carry on, my wayward son