Wow, that sort of felt good! The holidays aren’t such a pain in the ass when they are done from the comfort of your own home and without having to drive 14 hour hours round trip to be depressed and anxiety-ridden. It sort of sucks that it took a Global Pandemic and recommended travel and gathering restrictions (that many Americans seem to have flat-out ignored because they are morons) to make that happen, but I’m not complaining.
As you may or may not have noticed (I’m assuming the latter), I took a well-undeserved break from writing this shit show for a bit. I think all the writing about my late mother, dealing with depression, and other non-published projects took its toll on my Available For Use brain cells, and I found myself like the rest of the world for a week or so; not giving a shit about this blog. Not to mention I was busy making holiday dreams happen (not at all).
I watched—and continue to watch—a shit-ton of footy, had my share of belly bouncing and brain-numbing holiday goodies of various makes and percentages, and along with making Christmas Day breakfast and dinner for my Unit, I made some homemade pierogi (pir-OH-yee as my grandmother would say), and they were the bomb!
I had a solo production line, just like grandma Helen and the Church ladies did.
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Testing! So freaking yummy!
I think Helen would be proud, even if I may unknowingly have made Polish pierogi and not Slovak pirohy1. Oh well, they were carb-tastic dough bombs of buttery, doughy, potato-ie, cheesy goodness.
“Jason, we say pirohy, not pierogi! That’s what the Polish people say!” — Grandma Helen
I received some generous gifts from Wifey, B, and my in-laws, and gave some seemingly well-received gifts. I may have even put some instrumental Christmas music on the hi-fi on Christmas morning, but I will deny it if pressed.
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Once Christmas Day and Santa blew its/his load, I found myself looking to get outside in the coming days, something I hadn’t been doing due to holiday busy work and general sloth. So, on Boxing Day, I did a 3.20-mile hike at Meridian Park with my camera, followed by 2.95 miles with Wifey the following day. I’m happy to report that my Fat Old Man fitness is on point, and I should be ready to take on Mall Walking in the coming days. If I could find a mall.
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While you may think otherwise, I got some shots I dug from those walks. I took my D4 and the Nikkon 24-120 f/4. Hauling the D4 around for over 6 miles was like using Heavy Hands™, but I have to admit that while I love the compact styling and weight of the Zed-6 (as well as my previous mirrorless cameras), I still love the feeling of the tank-like D4 in my hands. I don’t think it will replace my Nikon mirrorless anytime soon for riding and hiking, but I still dig its handling and always find joy in using it.
The week ahead looks challenging, especially for someone with my disposition. Not because of what I have to do, but what I don’t have to do. Pandemic Life already has me questioning what day it is, so adding in no school for B and not work for Wifey most of the week, and I have NO FUCKING IDEA what day it is, where I should be, what I should be doing, or what my routine is. I guess I should crack open a can of Don’t Give a Flying Fuck and be happy that these are the least of my worries right now.
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Later.
- My late Grandma Helen and most of my relatives are a Bohemian mix of Slovak and Polish. Still, my grandmother staunchly considered herself Slovak to the point of being mildly offensive (by today’s standards) when talking of Polish family and friends or members of the “Polish church” located on the other side of the bridge from the small town I grew up in. For what it’s worth, I grew up amongst a ton of people with Eastern European heritage, and not once did I hear of someone being offended by the terms “Bohunk,” “Polack,” or “Hunky.” Most people, including myself, find it a source of amusement and pride.