Felix Navi Dad
The Christmas season, for me at least this year, has been remarkably… what’s the word I’m looking for, bearable. Normally, by this stage, I’ve retreated to mount Crumpet (that overlooks Who-ville) and, for the most part, would be spending my time sitting on the deck (with a cigar) watching the Who’s get on with making merry. Which, because we are southern hemisphere domiciled means roasting themselves to a deep burgundy on the color palette, burning meat on an open fire and drinking more brandy (and coke) than is sensible and/or indeed dignified.
This year I have not translocated to the coast and am instead remaining… well… here. Depending on which way you lean I might tell you that I’m being pandemic savvy. Or if you bend in the other direction its because I’m working on my house (which I want to put on the market early next year, and therefore there is some minor stuff that needs to be attended to). Although truth be told I am finding it quite draining having to gauge everyone’s ideology first before diving into any small talk, lest I upset anyone with an uncensored opinion about humanities current path.
This Christmas has been thus far divided up between Board-games, Cyberpunk 2077 and injuring myself in the workshop as I take on various DIY undertakings with a cheery disposition… although with no actual skill. The real handyman mantle belonged to my old man. And that particular apple… well, you might be able to argue there was never any apple to begin with. (in terms of that particular genetic transfer at any rate)
And since he has kicked off into the great unknown… well, that leaves me to fudge my way through various revitalizing endeavors. In my defense I ‘fixed’ my moms standing-lamp last night by giving it an experiment shake first… before committing myself to hauling it down to the workshop. So maybe there is some… latency… buried deep inside there, somewhere.
I’ve always been a fan of attempting percussion maintenance first… before attempting actual maintenance. Years of running an engineering wholesale business has taught me that hitting something with a one and half inch diameter piece of stainless steel round bar often fixes the problem.
And not just with the staff. Sometimes it worked on the forklifts and bandsaws too.
I laugh. But I actually once had to fire one of my delivery drivers who took umbrage with one of forklift drivers and sought retribution over some or other perceived slight and smashed said forklift driver with a length of round bar and broke his arm.
(the good old days)
I think the best thing about this year, because who goes out anymore, is the complete dearth of Christmas Carols. I haven’t been inside a mall, since… forever. And Spotify has long since replaced my reliance on radio. So really, by curating my activities I’ve saved myself from the trauma of Boney M’s Christmas Album and all other manner of cheer that can be insidiously injected into my life. (like a vaccine)
Ha ha. I’m just kidding, I love vaccines. And I will totally crotch-punch any coffin-dodgers who feel their longevity gives them the precedence in the queue for dead baby cells and Microsoft tracking chips.
I’ve also been seriously remiss in teaching the four year old how to ride. So we’ve started tackling that this week. Fortunately my wife is a better (more patient) teacher than me. I suck at transferring knowledge. It has always been thus. When I was an MMA instructor my proficiency was always getting into the ring with the student and then punching them in the face when they didn’t snap back their jab fast and straight enough. My friend and co-instructor was better at going through the motions and instructing in step-by-step fundamentals. I was alway more… eh… ‘just get in the ring and spar, eventually you will be less terrible…. or you will die’. (not a great philosophy for student retention though)
I don’t learn well through instruction. So I just assume that everyone else has the same (masochistic) desire to just launch in on the hardest difficulty setting and then learn by stubbornly refusing to give up. Which is also incidentally the way I learnt how to trade. Spurn any form of coursework and then just suck (more than you could believe could even be humanly possible) for two years. Ha ha.
Its not a great ride for your ego though. Fortunately countered by my deeply entrenched psychosis. It’s probably not for everyone though