End of January

The snow is slowly melting. Winter is having one of those lulls that cause secret, foolish hopes of spring. I know better, but still… I blame the seed catalogs that keep appearing in the mailbox.

Em and R. were up to prep Nadine's classroom for delivery of his ancestral pool table. It's been disassembled and stored in his mom's basement for 30 years, since his dad's death. He's having it repaired and reassembled here, and we're imagining a '50s-style rumpus room around it: juke box, tiki bar, darts, pinball and more. We certainly have the room.

It's the dog version of an all-day sucker. Keeps Early busy for hours.

We four hit the Deer Park book sale yesterday, and came away with five boxes of new (to us) stuff. Then the kids stayed and cut and stacked stove wood, used their new snowblower on the plow berm and driveway, wet-vacuumed up some standing water in the old bunny room, tidied the hall and porch, and generally were awesome and helpful. We are lucky.

I'm kind of puckered and asthmatic and my back hurts and obtaining books is the only thing I've managed to accomplish all weekend. Meh. Oh, and I slapped primer on the tiny ends of the vintage swoopy turquoise shelf we're putting up over the pink stove. Big whup. Maybe the lengthening days will be cheering.

C. has gone to clean the bunny room. I think I'll have another cookie and watch some Poirot.