Kate has to work today – 16 hours, a double, on Christmas. We got up at 5:30, I strung some lights as a surprise while she was in the shower (no, not in the shower, though that likely would have been surprising as well), made some tea, and we opened our stockings, sitting on the couch amidst the carnage and paper pulp of the last several days of packing and wrapping.
Then Kate scooted off to work, and I went back to bed. I went down to her hospital for lunch and got to see where she works, for the first time ever. (Security, especially around babies, is pretty high.)
On the way home, I stopped through Chinatown and picked up some bowls. A few observations:
- Yes, it’s true, on Christmas Day, there are an inordinately high number of Jews and chinese folks out and about.
- When shopping for chinese bowls, do not be tempted to buy the language education package which promises to teach you to «CRAZILY SPEAK ENGLISH». Your girlfriend does not need it.
- Neither should you be tempted by the large, rectangular, mylar-wrapped package of … well, I wasn’t sure. On the package were only two clear pictures: what appeared to be a bowl of black (watermelon?) seeds, and another bowl of viscous black tar, being spooned towards the face of the observer by an invisible hand (probably not what Ayn Rand was envisioning). The only word in english on the package was in a large, bold typeface, centered, and amongst a crowd of chinese characters: MILK.
Your guess is as good as mine.
Now I’m home, prepping to make cookies, sipping hot cocoa, and playing Puzzle Pirates. Not a bad Christmas at all.