It’s squishy, crappy, spend-a-lot-to-show-you-care-day. So what. This is far, far more important AND much more exciting. Your participation in this unique event could CHANGE HISTORY.
An opportunity has arisen which every Starfleet member from officer to ensign would be glad of – the chance to help pick a name for a planet. Well, not quite a planet, a moon, which is kind of the same thing but smaller and still totally awesome. If things which got downgraded from planets anyway (poor Pluto) can have moons.
Anyway, it’s a celestial body, it needs a name and YOU can help.
And if you love me at all, you’ll pick Vulcan, for sheer awesomeness.
In other news I had a lovely day. The only, tiny reference to the commercialised love-fest was Husby groggily croaking at me ‘Happy Valentines day’ through his sore throat and giving me a germ-laden kiss first thing. Sweet of him to want to share his lurgy, but that, like the twee (or downright revolting cards) and expensive tat, I can do without. Our love is solid, unshakeable and…well…broke.
I had Niece today, who did some incredibly cute things, then Neff later after school. My favourite moments were hanging out the washing (she wanted to come out but couldn’t manage her new trainers by herself so borrowed my boots, then handed me pegs one…at…a…time) and Neff legging it across the school playground to take a grinning, running jump into my arms. So rare and so lovely.
I also shaved Neff’s head.
Before you think I’m a terrible person, it’s been a whole-family effort to try to get the kid to have a haircut. While my sister’s been poorly, he’s waited and hung on and dragged it out and not done it, and though I commented (much to his delight) that he now looks like an overgrown chrysanthemum, he still wouldn’t cave.
He said he’s worried about the shaver hurting him (and despite my gentlest of touches, was flinchy and said “OW!” throughout) and about the noise it makes. Not even the prospect of getting to watch Husby have his head shaved was enough.
So I thought long and hard about the matter, knowing how much less silly he’d look and how many BAGFULS of brownie points I’d get from everyone else by being The One Who Got Him To Have His Haircut, and with almost no deliberation, bribed him with McDonald’s. I know, I’m an awful person.
He was alright in the end though, and I even let him use the hoover to clean up all the hair bits, even the bits we’d collected in a jug to throw away, and the bits all over his clothes and all over the floor and all over me. (And he thought it was an awesome idea that he got to use the hoover! Long may this continue.)
I then took the shaver to Husby’s head as he sat on the kitchen floor (so Neff and Niece could both see). I cut the first stripe and then “Oh crap!”. I’d been using the #3 attachment for Neff and Husby usually has #2, so I’d taken off the #3 and forgotten to replace it!
Oh. Em. Gee!
I’d cut a HUGE slice of #0!
There was nothing for it but to carry on. With Husby’s queries about what was wrong and what I’d done growing increasingly more frantic, I tried to placate him and say that I thought I’d gone wrong but it was all ok.
The man is now bald.
He gallantly looked in the mirror and told me he didn’t mind. I said I liked it and that his hair grows quickly anyway…
Later we went round to friends’ and they all looked rather shocked. I explained that I’d made a mix-up with the shaver and one immediately quipped “Oh that’s alright then – we don’t need to ask how his chemo’s going then…”