20160102.0746

Work continues as the new year progresses. I have another order on deck already, as well as the continuing work on the other project-for-pay that I am doing. The usual gamut of other concerns is also in place. There is much for me to do, and I feel as if there is no time to do more than a small part of it. Such is life, I suppose; there is always more to do than there are time and resources in and with which to do it. (At least in the sense of what is accessible; time and resources may well exceed the amount of things to do in toto, but none of us has access to the actual totus. And you thought I'd make a joke about a Kansas dog or a band most popular in the 1980s...sensibly, I admit. I do make that kind of joke, and far too often for anybody's comfort.)

It continued yesterday, of course, although the work was largely around the home, with the Mrs. and I tending to the domestic chores that had piled up around Sherwood Cottage. There are yet things for me to do in that regard; many of my shirts need ironing, as some of them have for some weeks now. But that does not mean I did not get things done during what ended up being a two-pot day. Among others, I secured a pair of shoes to replace an old pair I had worn for at least five years; I may have bought them in The City when I lived there, but I might have bought them while I was yet an on-campus student in Hub City. (The latter label should not be difficult to untangle, given my love of crawfish and boudin.) The uppers on the old pair were letting in air and water through several large tears; it was time to replace them. My feet will take some time to get used to the new shoes, though; things ought to be interesting for a while.

As the Mrs. and I worked, Ms. 8 showed that she continues to develop. Her vocabulary is increasing markedly, and she engages in pretend play, "feeding" dolls she received in the past weeks with play cookware and food she also received in the past few weeks. (She makes slurping sounds as she puts spoons to their lips and tilts them up and chewing sounds as she puts fake fruits and vegetables to them.) She also plays with blocks she has had and received in the past weeks, and she dances enthusiastically at odd times--whether or not music plays around her. I admit to some worry about the potential enforcement of gender norms, but the Mrs. points out that what she does mimics much of what we do and have done; we feed Ms. 8 (albeit not from a spoon anymore), we push her around in a stroller at times, we carry her, and we both cook for her. (The Mrs. admittedly cooks more than I do, but I do a fair bit of cooking, and not just eggs on occasional mornings.) Ms. 8 also likes to rough-house, which I take as a good thing, although as her doing so continues, I hope she will stop kicking or slapping me in the genitals...