I decided after a late night shower that I had it with the greasy, hairy face, so I went to town with my father's Gillette razor and some Brut shaving cream I found in his cabinet (circa 1967). I feel good, but without facial hair, I look like I'm 12.
Akech Malaul gave me genetic reasons why my facial hair comes in all white (that's a med-school brain, I tell you), but I didn't retain a word of what he told me. I enjoyed catching up with him and Edem at my parents house during the afternoon, although the DNA conversation was way over my head.
It was a beautiful morning for running, that turned into a rainy afternoon (which Tunga experienced on his own run...that's what you get for sleeping in).
I was up early. I did a car wash, Wegmans, and even Home Depot before heading south with Dad to get rolls for Easter dinner (and finding half-moon cookies and molasses hermits, as well).
Ah, today, though, is about ham and creamed potatoes. Easter has been my holiday to host but no one wanted to come to Connecticut this year so I drove back to Syracuse to be with them. I purchased my block of sharp cheddar cheese for the creamed potatoes and I will do my part with the ham before heading back to Stratford tomorrow night on a full stomach.
In the meantime, my Mom is waking up after having vivid dreams of giving birth to a giraffe. She was obsessed with April's birth-giving yesterday: the labor pains and afterbirth gestation, the moans, groans, and maternal instinctual connectivity that I got to experience over my a.m. cup of coffee.
It was a long wait and a lot of pushing, but my mother (and April) successfully delivered a baby male giraffe (and you can imagine the grunts, growls, and encouraging shouts of support that came from Amalfi Drive while my mother watched on her IPad).
Yes, a chick hatched (not from the rotten eggs my mom tried to hard boil), but from April's umbilical chord. Now, my mom will dream of having hooves arrive from her nether-regions, and I'm sure I'll be entertained at breakfast as she shares.