katy
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Katy Birthday
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A gift from Auntie Katy to Ess. She (Ess) has her own unique counting style right now. Colors are down pretty well, working on numbers.
This is Marge the monkey, from Katy.
Wasn’t interested in opening the present, just wanted to crawl on top of it.
This evening, I’ve listened to ten minutes and eight seconds of the new Ben Howard album I Forgot Where We Were and it is spectacular.
We did something today I hope will become a tradition — the Saturday before Christmas (today), we went over to my parent’s house and had some Christmasy time: decorated the tree, had a little lunch together, saw Katy’s new townhome! (it won’t be new every year, but it was part of of the time), just spent some time where no one had to leave or be anywhere. Wonderful. That’s the part I miss about holidays from my youth: uninterrupted stretches of time with family, being over at someone’s house for six, eight hours at a time. I remember during one of these long holidays, probably 1991, I was playing with my new Lego (Technic 8856 “Whirlwind Rescue”), and my grandpa Bup and I were looking at the mechanisms that made the winch work and the rotors tilt. There’s not time for that when you have Christmases on both sides to drive to. So, I hope we can do this Christmas-Time for years to come.
Auntie Katy got matching shirts for her and Essie!
It’s almost mid-April and we’re coming into a huge snowstorm. They’re saying somewhere between 8 and 20 inches starting tonight and continuing tomorrow. Mykala has planned a Christmas dinner for tomorrow night, the Santa nightlight is plugged in, I’m listening to Christmas music (“Christmas with the Rat Pack”), and getting a game of TextTwist going.
My sister (who just got her PhD in applied mathematics) Katy sent me a great article about a talking, learning 5-year-old intelligence research parrot named Alex (parrot) - Wikipedia:
He called an apple a “banerry”, which Pepperberg thought to be a combination of “banana” and “cherry”, two fruits he was more familiar with.
Reading the New Yorker (thanks, Katy!) with the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window may be the single best way to spend an hour of a cold winter afternoon.
My wife Mykala is a woman who knows how to wear some sweatpants. As the owner of a veritable library of them (nearly the antithesis to my own wardrobe), Mykala reintroduced me to sweatpants through persuasion and sheer exposure.
In elementary school, I had these red sweatpants which I wore to school once. I’m sure no one said anything about my pants, but possessing the misplaced assumption that everyone was looking at me, ready to laugh, I was certain derisive snickers and outright insults were bound to rain down upon me. Mykala and I have a short-hand for this type of self-consciousnessness: I imagine a world where everyone has giant eyes — mercilessly following my every move. This (of course) is patently false now, as it was then. Even at my young age, I was unusually intent on details, and I think there was a small darn on one of the legs… as far as I can tell, all this freaked me out sufficiently to keep me out of sweatpants for about a decade afterwards. What a shame.
You did it, Katy! Congrats on getting your Master’s in Mathematics (I don’t know if those words should be capitalized, but they seem important enough to be capitalized) by passing a ridiculously rigorous, stressful and difficult oral exam! I knew you could do it. Whether or not you decide to get your Ph.D., you’ll always be the best math solver that I know.
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