JERRY!

Every day during the COVID crisis, I wake up and say to myself, “You gotta do a HamannEggs. You owe it to your readers.”

And then I fall into a 14 hour hole filled with sweatpants, awkward video chats, and bouts of screaming to please, for the love of all that’s holy, put your dishes in the dishwasher. 

The next morning starts it all over again. 

If only there was something that could totally upend these days that run one into another. Something cute. Something bitey. Well, we found it and his name is Jerry! Jerry the puppy!

Or Jerry Gergich Hamann to be correct. Do not allow any Dianas try convince you his middle name is Garcia. It’s Gergich, after the hapless “Parks and Rec” character. 

We got Jerry from the same Goldendoodle breeder as my boss (the ultimate brown nose move). However, due to the pandemic, we were required to pick him up in an empty suburban parking lot like we were purchasing a kilo of black tar heroin. They showed up in an unmarked SUV and we were instructed to have one, only one, person approach the vehicle. One I handed our check over and they essentially tossed Jerry into my arms before slamming the gas pedal back to their breeding paradise in the country.

Almost immediately, all the Luca and Elijah promises regarding puppy care went right out the window. They avoid his little sharp teeth and frequent need to go potty by hiding behind their xbox controllers. And since Diana has to maintain her essential business of helping Evanston’s residents stay drunk for the entirety of the pandemic, the dog duty (doody) is all mine.

He’s a good boy and is trying his best to figure out what these chattering monkeys who kidnapped him from his littermates want. 

You may be thinking, “How does Grover feel about this whole Jerry situation?” He’s not pleased. His dreams of living out his days lounging on our bed, occupying my 100% attention were dashed. But he occasionally plays with the little fella for a vigorous 45 seconds before collapsing on the floor.

Please enjoy this photo of Jerry smoking a cigarette. 

TEEN!

Elijah Steven Hamann turned thirteen today. 

Can you friggin’ believe this? This whole blog started thirteen years ago! 1,212 posts. Viewers have visited from Ukraine, Russia and other places trying to hack my computer. 

It’s hard to describe how amazing this kid is. The best way I can describe him is the way we do it here at HamannEggs, with a story.

Eli woke up extra early on April Fool’s Day. The only time he’s woken up before 11am during the whole COVID-19 crisis. He took the time to hand draw googly eyes and tape them to every single item in our fridge. 

Later that day, after some internet research, Eli removed a vital hose from the toilet and pointed it in such a way that it would spray all over the victim when they flushed. The intended victim was Luca. The ACTUAL victim was Diana. 

He got in super trouble. 

Much later, while he was suffering through his “no screens for the rest of the night, mister” punishment, he snuck up behind me while I was watching TV. I was enjoying the after glow of my nightly Manhattan. The little bugger buzzed off half my mustache!

My special, quarantine mustache. My hideous, awful, 1970’s stoner mustache.

I was so shocked I couldn’t even get angry. I had to respect his April Fool’s mastery. But my eyes couldn’t lie. I was sad to see my mustache friend go. 

Eli felt awful. He apologized profusely and almost burst into tears. And spent the rest of the night trying to make it up to me, including making me another Manhattan. And no, I did not shave the rest of my mustache for my 8am video meeting the next day.

That’s Eli for you. Sweet, smart, funny, silly, slightly mischievous and a solid Manhattan maker. 

I love you pal. You’re the reason we’re all here. 

Covid Fun

It’s been extra hard to write the blog lately with the whole…apocalypse. We’re together, we’re safe, we’re healthy. We’re adjusting to being on top of each other every second of every minute of every day.

Luca, Grover and I enjoy our little morning routine. I start each day with a cup of coffee and four hundred conference calls in my sweat pants. I take my calls at the dining room table because Luca officially took over our office. He set up a mission control with three devices running 24/7. Luca conducts video calls with classmates, watches sports videos and edits his finest Xbox Madden football plays with adorable play by play voiceovers.

Grover just lies on the floor and mentally asks, “Why? Why? Why are you here?”

The close quarters can be challenging. Luca and Elijah are basically at each other’s throats from dawn to dusk, with occasional spurts of basketball playing. I’ve noticed we’ve individually found the farthest four corners of the house to do our “I hate you and everyone and everything” pouting. 

That isn’t to say we don’t have moments of joy. I love the commute. And we’ve been eating actual meals together and making our way through the TV comforts of “The Office.” We’ve also had some epic games of Jenga and Clue.

And then there’s my mustache. 

Somewhere in the confusion and panic of that first week of quarantine, I shaved my beard into a terrible mustache. It was my version of shouting into the void. It’s awful. Mousy, scraggly, misshapen. It’s an affront to the 1970s.

Our family is passionately split. I and Luca are pro. Me, because it’s so stupid. Luca, because he thinks everything I do is awesome. Diana and Eli loathe it. Is it COVID-19 that makes Diana resist my kisses or the mustache? Eli just doesn’t agree with it aesthetically. 

Two nights ago, I put my mustache up as grand prize in our game night. The winner got to decide its fate. What no one else knew is I am ruthless at Clue and mopped the floor with everyone through my keen detective skills and abject cheating. 

Luca and I celebrated by painting my toenails bright blue. I am never going to have sex again.