Pineapple break down

The surprise party for Ellie Roo and Kate SURRPRIIIISSSEEE!!!! exceeded expectations. We pulled up, opened the fence gate, and friends and family went nuts. I didn’t take any video, but someone did. It was difficult to keep the secret and Crock Pot the chicken, go to Sam’s Club for pork shoulder, yada yada. The idea and inspiration and impetus was multi-leveled.


Side note: someone in the kitchen today said woah it feels like we’re in a video game. I don’t ever feel like that, perhaps because I’ve never played video games.


Anyway. The idea and inspiration was primarily to get back in the groove with Kate, and sort of step back up to the plate. Kate’s been shouldered with so many parenting tasks, as a result of my passive shrug shoulder selfishness. Like oh, you’re fine, I’m going to go for a run. Or, oh, the baby prefers you at night, so I’m going to stretch my legs on the floor. Or, oh, Kate has a higher cleanliness standard, so I’m not going to vacuum or sweep or launder the sheets, because meh it doesn’t matter that much to me. Which drives resentment way down, like an oil drill, deep into the earth’s core, and destabilizes the bedrock foundation. Disrupts and destabilizes trust and equality and respect and partnership.


So the surprise party was me SHOWING, because yes talk is cheap, that I do give a damn, and that I do see all the endless love Kate pours into the baby, and us, and the house. And it felt good. Putting in effort for a party in someone else’s honor. This was my first time throwing a surprise party. Kate’s sister co-organized. Which was an immense help. It’s a paradox that serving others increases your own happiness. I learn lessons late in life, but at least I learn them


Today at work I was shown how to cut a pineapple quickly and efficiently. Same with a melon Useful skills. I also now know how to deep fry onions. Working in a kitchen is honest work. I go through these phases of obsession.


Right now, I’m into cooking and swimming. These are phases, but they’ve always been a part of my life. I’ve been in and out of kitchens (professionally and at home) and in and out of swimming. I grew up swimming for club, dominated high school, peetered out in college, abstained for a decade while I was an alcoholic, and now here I am, functionally semi-sober and back in the water. I keep thinking how magical a therapy the water is. Particularly, and perhaps only, open water. Pools are still over sanitized chlorine boxes and don’t really slam your psyche into steam. Which is necessary for psychic release.


I had a decent Thai Massage clientele in Georgia, but it’s been hard to grow that here. I’ve tried Facebook promos and these local neighborhood Facebook groups. Currently, word of mouth is the strategy. We’ll see. I probably need to be more assertive about chit chat promo.


We’re supposed to go to a Minnesota United soccer game tonight with the baby but the heat index is 102 and there’s no shade in the stadium and Ellie Roo has been fighting  fever for the past two days and I’m like shhhhhh, I think we should just stay in and stay cool. Because I’m concerned about the baby. But also because I loathe direct contact with the sun.


I need to go through my closet and apply the mantra less is more.


I need to either eat the spinach in the frig or make this Indian spinach dish. And possibly make a spinach artichoke dip that uses coconut milk instead of mayo.


Today is an OFF day for running and swimming.


Tomorrow I’ll run a hard workout: 10 x 1 minute HARD, 2 min EZ. Sunday I’ll do a double Lake Harriet swim, meaning 2 laps.


OFF days are very difficult for me. I’m itching to get out there and hammer hammer hammer. But all these podcast emphasize the hyper importance of rest and recovery so you’re fresh for the fight.


The Alt Dad Diary is still going. It’s something that I can’t really stop. I would like to develop other writing projects, but this comes out so naturally and easy.. I’d like to get paid massive amounts of money for this, or decent amounts, but I’m also content. Being content is such an unstable and fragile thing, but it’s good to call it out. I’m content.