The Magic is in the Math

"The Magic is in the Math" was the official slogan of this year's fake Thanksgiving visit to Ohio, which this year happened to be held on real Thanksgiving. It is a seriously good thing to be a thousand or so miles closer to the Schluetermetz', and the trip proved to be totally fun and relaxing and the emotional battery recharger that it has been in years past. The only thing missing was the wit and wisdom of one Uncle Rico. The trip included: card tricks, psychic connections, living room defecations, pants ejeculation (sic), spades, tasty food of all sorts, Oregonian visitors via Kentucky, massive downloading, smoked cheddar, toddler beat boxing, and Ok Go videos. The trip did not include Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire or, suprisingly, stinky farts.

This morning Jeannie and I woke up in Columbus a little after 5, left around 6, got home a little after 1, then I headed to work for Black Friday. It was fine. Uneventful.

While I was in Ohio, Sean and his buddy posted some tracks that they had recorded that I will be mixing down into a song. I got a chance to do a little preliminary work, but I think I'll really jump in with the wrenches and screwdrivers tomorrow before work. So I'll spend some upcoming free time working on that. Also hope to get some work done on the house, work on the final Hamlet matinees, and finish the lighting for Tami's Raisin in the Sun. So there's a lot to do in the coming week, but hopefully it will all fit together like a nice little puzzle.

Jeannie and I started drywalling the ceiling of our future bedroom, and I would just like to take moment to praise Allah for the invention of the drywall lift. Seriously. I don't know that I have ever appreciated the usefulness of a tool as much as I did when that fucker lifted those sheets of drywall right up to the ceiling and held them there. I think it has saved our marriage and our shoulders.

Currently: my stomach is rumbling. There's no ice in our freezer (we used it all to transport a super healthy turkey to Ohio in a 5-gallon bucket) so I can't have a gin & tonic, I'm eating popcorn, and I think my arse is gonna 'splode soon.