MB recently taught the boys how to play Wii bowling, and all of a sudden Elliott is really good at it. Like, beating us without us even trying to let him win. Like, absolutely owning us. We played two games after dinner last night. He bowled 207 the first time and 172 the second. Watching his technique, it seems like it must be dumb luck, except how does luck account for annihilating TWO adults who are actually trying to win? Anyway, I find the whole thing hilarious and awesome and wish we'd recorded the entire first game of the night. He ended it by rolling four strikes in a row, and probably could've become an internet sensation.
(I feel obligated to state that he only does that bratty foot-stomp over missing one pin because he had just seen his brother do it a few minutes before. He usually is pretty unbothered by his rare not-great frames.)
I ended up testing my fancy winter leggings last weekend and I fully endorse them. My family had a graveside service for my great-aunt who died back in December and was cremated, and the day dawned a beautiful sunny eight degrees. My hands were cold and my face was cold, but my legs were just fine. Best ten dollar winter investment ever.
A friend shared this on facebook a week or two ago, and my instant reaction was a skeptical smirk. I had just listened to the original the night before and would have possibly bet money there was no way the Disturbed guy could do it justice. Then I played the video and took it all back. It's really beautiful.
Cuties have ruined me for all other oranges. Someone gave me some pink Cara Cara oranges for Elliott, and peeling them is such a pain in the ass. So much rind under my thumbnail! So much pith all over the place! Sloppy wedges that don't split neatly apart! I do realize this is a really stupid first-world problem.
I spent the morning today doing the things one does around the house that no one else will EVER notice or appreciate, but that nevertheless need to be done. I pulled outgrown pants and shirts out of both kids' dressers, changed the sheets on all the beds, refilled the soap dispensers in both bathrooms and the kitchen, and other mundane and unremarkable things. I wish I could remember where I first heard the term "invisible work" for these kinds of tasks, because it is the most apt description imaginable.
Reading (audiobook): Kitchens of the Great Midwest by J Ryan Stradal
Playing: a lot of repeats of that Sounds of Silence cover