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My weekend will consist of three things:

  1. Making chocolates. I came up with a Nutella variant of the classic chocolate-dipped peanut butter ball, and it’s been a big hit in years past. (I’ve also got some chestnut spread to try this year, I think it has potential. The lack of partially hydrogenated ingredients is also a plus.)
  2. Some moonlighting. A tiny startup is taking over one of the products I used to write about, and I’m updating the documents for it. It’s the first time I’ve worked by contract. I’m not being paid as much as I’d like for it, which especially sucks because it’ll take me less than a third of the time it would take anyone else. But it’s a foot in the door, and it’s likely to lead to more such side projects.
  3. Christmas shopping and a little bit of wrapping. I really need some inspiration for a couple of these. And as usual, I’ve saved the hardest gifts for last. I need to stop doing it that way.

I’ve got a nephew!

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My sister had her baby! It’s a boy. They named him Alex Patrick. He was born at 9:41 on Friday, December 6th (there hasn’t been a good time to do a journal update since then). Here he is asleep, and awake.

I don’t find most newborns to be cute, but I think he’s pretty adorable. Everyone’s doing fine, and my sister and brother-in-law are both on parental leave for the next couple of weeks.

I’m very excited to be an uncle, I always looked up to mine and thought they were the coolest guys. I hope I can live up to that.

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My electric razor died a couple of weeks ago, and since my family always asks for Christmas gift ideas, I thought I’d add a replacement to the wishlist and try using a blade in the meanwhile. I’ve never used a blade in my life. Here’s how it’s been going.

The blade: Gilette Mach 3.

Average blood leaks: 2.6 per shave. Nothing a few seconds of direct pressure doesn’t fix, thankfully.

Elapsed shave time: about eight minutes, now that I’m a little more experienced with it. This is comparable to the old Braun, in its death throes. My stupid pointy chin takes twice as long as the rest of my face put together.

Comparative closeness: depends on how much I want to risk bleeding, although it’s definitely gotten better with practice. Today’s was the closest shave I’ve ever had.

So I don’t regret doing this. At least I know that I can shave with a blade, in the event I’m ever without electrical power for a really long time. I also learned that I don’t enjoy smelling like shaving cream. 😛

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I just updated tmbg.net with (among other things) the details from last Wednesday’s instore appearance. I’ll have some photos up in a week or two.

After the performance, the Johns moved to a small table for the autographing. I ran into violentfemmebot and her friend, who had just arrived, and we got in line. For autographs, I had brought Then: The Earlier Years and McSweeney’s Issue 6, with a snazzy silver marker specifically so they could sign the navy blue endsheets of the McSweeney’s book.

After winding through the CD racks, I started trying to prime the marker. Being a complete idiot, I couldn’t figure out how to get it started. My frustration grew until it was finally my turn with the Johns. Flansburgh saw me struggling with my marker and said, “Don’t worry about it, man, we’ve got Sharpies.” He took my Then liner notes, and suggested that I get Linnell to sign my McSweeney’s at the same time. Linnell greeted me and asked me where he should sign. I indicated the navy blue endsheet with the lyrics printed on it, in a stupefied yet Quixotic attempt to cling to my great silver marker plan. Linnell hesitated, saying that he didn’t think it would be legible if he signed there, but I misunderstood him to mean that I wouldn’t be able to read the printed lyrics anymore, so I dismissed it and he signed there in green Sharpie. He was right, of course, it was very hard to see. Flans asked my name, leaned over and signed the McSweeney’s disc for me while Linnell signed the Then liner notes. It was all over pretty quickly. They were on to the next person before I even remembered to ask for a photo with them. Oh well, I looked kind of bad that day anyway. I left feeling like Ralphie sitting at the bottom of the Santa slide in A Christmas Story.

Within two minutes of getting home, I figured out the stupid marker. So I poured all available light onto Linnell’s autograph, and traced over it in silver. It looks damn awesome. Take that, Fate.

It’s up to you, New York

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I had a great time with my friend Rich on Saturday. Dinner at La Cocina, which is probably my favorite restaurant in the whole city. It’s laid back; nice but not fancy, active but not noisy. The margaritas are great and the food is even better. After dinner we had a couple of beers nearby, right on my old block. My other work friends didn’t come out, which I mostly expected because my whole trip was on pretty short notice.

I stayed at my ex’s apartment, on the fold-out couch. I was a little nervous about that; I didn’t want to spend the whole weekend feeling awkward, waiting for her to blow up at me or something. But it went much better than that. It seemed like we’re mostly free of the old behavior patterns we used to have with each other. We both realize it’s over, and consider that to be a good thing, so there’s no point rehashing anything.

So, bureaucrats willing, I’ll have a divorce judgment in a few weeks. I submitted the final papers on Tuesday, after a pretty anticlimactic Monday.