March 14, 2011

3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197

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Happy Pi Day!

My husband's favorite book:


We had only been married a couple years when I discovered this about him and it was an eye-opener to me that my husband truly was an engineer to the inner-core with a little bit of lawyer on the outer crust.  He would not only pour over its pages, but then come to me excitedly reading excerpts and expect me to nod with furrowed eyebrows with my thinking finger on my chin and then engage in discussion over the mysteries of pi with him.  uh, no.  Put me in an apron and add an "e" to the end and then I can talk crusts and fillings with the best but I can't even feign interest in this one.  I give him my best blank stare and sometimes offer a sympathetic smirk to let him know that his inner-geek is showing too much.

But every nerdy interest can be given a moment of respect in our home as some national association of some discipline of engineering has lobbied hard to institute the holy Pi Day on March 14th.  And so, much to my husband's delight, we paid our homage. . .


What I really needed was a video of this happy occasion.  Bridger is just out of the picture on the right watching it all.  All of the smells and sights of the food overloaded his sensory system and just after I snapped the picture he proceeded to gag and vomit all over (luckily, the table was spared).  He had just been g-tube fed which makes it -- to summarize without grossing you out, very voluminous.  But since this is just about a daily occurrence with him, I have developed some sensory saving strategies for myself.  Mother's best friend. . . the disposable surgical mask:

I collect a stash of these every time we are hospitalized and every hurl episode I take on in my house starts with this.  Add my yellow rubber gloves as the must have companion accessory and I can take on anything, no matter how voluminous that anything is.

So Alan came home with a big smile on his face to see our celebration of him and his weirdness, then saw me in my hospital mask hanging retired around my neck and offered me a sympathetic smirk -- kind of like the one I give him when he reads me his weird book.  I guess we all have our quirks.