While on call, usually the overnight team will order food for dinner. We got Pan-Asian tonight. The food got here around 9:00pm--however, when my case finally ended at 10:30pm, all the food was gone. All that was left were the garnishes. Pieces of side vegetable that no one wanted to eat, sauces, dollops of rice here and there, and the unsavory Mystery Tempura, which, unlike its already-masticated bretheren, did not have a shape or color that broadcast its former identity before being dipped in tempura batter and deep fried, and had been avoided for that very reason. Who knows what it could be? Tempura mouse, maybe, or tempura doorstop.
So what did I do? I compiled all the rice bits and poured the leftover sauce on top, mixing in the little veggie bits and Mystery Tempura to make a sort of rice bowl. And you know, it wasn't half bad. But what other choice did I have? I suppose the other option would be to put a stone in a pot of water and starting boiling it in hopes that some kindly village people would start bringing by savory stew meats and vegetables to add to my cauldron, and then we could ALL SHARE IN THE GOODNESS...but I don't have a cauldron. And also I don't know any kindly village people. Damn.
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So I finally got up the courage to cut Cal's hair again. It was just getting so long is all. He was starting to look like a Monchichi. But I kept putting off the trim because the last time I tried to cut his hair, I did a bad job and he ended up looking like Moe from the Three Stooges. That said, Moe is the leader of the stooges, so clearly his hair didn't impact his ascent to power in any way. And yet, not a good look.
So this time, I decided that I would not touch the front of his hair at all, that I would only cut the sides, over his ears. But how to cut a baby's hair without having them whip his head around to look at the scissors? Oh, the scissors, THOSE FASCINATING SCISSORS. I thought briefly about doing it while he was asleep, but I didn't really want all that hair getting strewn all over the bed. I asked a friend with a kid how she managed to keep her kid still for his haircut, and she told me that she just did it while he was watching TV. But Cal doesn't watch TV. In fact, he doesn't even seem very interested in it the times that it happens to be on in his range of vision. Which either means he's a supergenius who eschews all conventional media because he's thinking SO MANY DIMENSIONS BEYOND THAT, or he has no attention span at all.
Well, either way, I ended up just giving him a little snip while he was eating dinner. Specifically, while he was eating his Goldfish crackers. He loves those Goldfish crackers. And don't bother telling me if they're high in sodium or full of deadly preservatives or some such, because HE LOVES THOSE GOLDFISH CRACKERS.
(I would post a picture of Cal at this point, only I'm at work now, so I don't have access to pictures. Just imagine a Monchichi eating goldfish crackers. There you go.)
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I have this weekend off. Originally I was scheduled to work this Sunday, but I traded with one of my classmates for another Sunday, because as we all (maybe) know, this Sunday is Mother's Day. I normally steer clear of these Hallmark-type Holidays (Grandparent's Day and Secretary's Day also spring to mind), but this year I am intrigued. What's Mother's Day like from THE INSIDE? This being my first Mother's Day as an actual mother, I will have to report back on you on how it is. If it was really cool, it would be all sunshine and treats and not having to wait on line for anything--but I suspect the reality will be a little more pedestrian. Like, say, brunch and a nap.
Currently reading: Finished "Comfort Me With Apples." Thouroughly enjoyable. But did you read the part about how they adopted that baby and then they had to give her back after six months because the biological parents changed their minds? MUCH TOO SAD. I asked myself what I would do were someone to want to take Cal away, and I have to admit, I probably would have a strong inclination to take the baby and abscond. Unlawful, but I would do it. Don't tell the Hypthetical Crimes Unit at the NYPD, though.