It may be the last one. Wouldn't it be wonderful if it truly was the last one? It would inspire and excite us! It would allow real thoughts of the coming of spring to creep in.
I'm talking, of course, about the arctic blast we're experiencing today. The usual nonsense: temperatures topping at 9F (-13C). Bitter winds chills.
But it's a sunny day and I choose to be delighted by it: blues skies and a gallop toward spring!
Breakfast in sunshine!
Now, in the matter of the darn table:
We are not yet tired of the project, but I am hugely resigned to not getting the second table of my dreams, where you "build it yourself," in that you choose the legs, the stain and contour of table top, and, of course, its size.
But it's new. Ed cannot wrap himself around the concept of acquiring something so big, so fresh off the shelves. It's about forests, excessive consumption... the usual. Taking something that someone discards is okay. Why create havoc in the forest when you can simply swap? -- he'll ask. (I'll retort -- if we take the discard, the other person will be the one buying the new. Someone gets the new! Why can't it be us? You can see how this argument will get me nowhere at all.)
As we widen our Craigslist search to include Milwaukee (you'll surely find something there! I don't want to drive in your wreck of a truck all the way to Milwaukee!), he is determined to show me that somewhere there is a table for sale that is close to a table of my dreams. And it's used and inexpensive.
And he offers this olive branch: why don't we buy something that is acceptable, albeit not of my dreams and use it until we find a used one I truly love? We can sell the "interim" table then and go for the one I adore.
I'm okay with the idea. And so now are looking for two tables: transitional and adored. But the computer tab to my dream new one remains open, to remind me of that, which cannot be.
I pick up a scamp of a girl!
Are we going out to the school playground?
Snowdrop, no. It's really, really cold! What happened to your dress?
Oh the sleeve got really, really, super duper wet!
(Lusting for warmer days...)
At the farmhouse, she is happy to see a brownie in my bakery bag. She never eats more than a bite or two, but she loves the concept of this bit of chocolate heaven.
Unlike the past days, this afternoon she is extremely absorbed in her own stories with characters. I catch one quick photo of her as she turns around to face me...
Oh! It reminds me so much of one that I keep in the bedroom upstairs! This one:
Same family don't you think? (It's her mommy, when she was just a little older than Snowdrop...)
Evening... the parents are here to pick up their charged charge. Ed is coming in with Snowdrop on his shoulders. It may be cold, but the girl "just looooves" closing the coop with him.
How were the cheepers? -- I ask him later.
For the first time, all three were already in the coop. You know, I need two hands to close the door, so I put Snowdrop on the roof for a brief second.
Did she mind?
Right away she said -- it's dirty! I thought for a second I was hearing you!
I turn to dinner preparation. I had asked Ed if there was something he wanted me to prepare this week. Chef's salad! -- he had said. Instantly.
What do you understand that to mean?
You know -- a salad like you usually make, only you add to it all sorts of stuff.
What kind of stuff?
Oh, turkey or chicken if you have it... (I don't have it. I put it on my grocery list.) Eggs, veggies. Left over veggies. (We never have left over veggies; I make copious amounts each day and we eat them all.)
That's it?
Mushrooms maybe. But don't cook them. Too much trouble. Put them in the microwave. (Blasphemy! I'll cook some.) The point is that you shouldn't go to any trouble over a chef's salad. Just throw stuff from the fridge into the bowl!
I smiled indulgently at his description, bought the needed items at the store and tonight, I cooked up and prepared what I think will satisfy his craving for a substantial "thrown together" salad and my desire to stay with the very fresh and very honest.
Night time. It's cold outside! And so calm and warm and quiet here in the farmhouse. Exhale, with a smile.
I'm talking, of course, about the arctic blast we're experiencing today. The usual nonsense: temperatures topping at 9F (-13C). Bitter winds chills.
But it's a sunny day and I choose to be delighted by it: blues skies and a gallop toward spring!
Breakfast in sunshine!
Now, in the matter of the darn table:
We are not yet tired of the project, but I am hugely resigned to not getting the second table of my dreams, where you "build it yourself," in that you choose the legs, the stain and contour of table top, and, of course, its size.
But it's new. Ed cannot wrap himself around the concept of acquiring something so big, so fresh off the shelves. It's about forests, excessive consumption... the usual. Taking something that someone discards is okay. Why create havoc in the forest when you can simply swap? -- he'll ask. (I'll retort -- if we take the discard, the other person will be the one buying the new. Someone gets the new! Why can't it be us? You can see how this argument will get me nowhere at all.)
As we widen our Craigslist search to include Milwaukee (you'll surely find something there! I don't want to drive in your wreck of a truck all the way to Milwaukee!), he is determined to show me that somewhere there is a table for sale that is close to a table of my dreams. And it's used and inexpensive.
And he offers this olive branch: why don't we buy something that is acceptable, albeit not of my dreams and use it until we find a used one I truly love? We can sell the "interim" table then and go for the one I adore.
I'm okay with the idea. And so now are looking for two tables: transitional and adored. But the computer tab to my dream new one remains open, to remind me of that, which cannot be.
I pick up a scamp of a girl!
Are we going out to the school playground?
Snowdrop, no. It's really, really cold! What happened to your dress?
Oh the sleeve got really, really, super duper wet!
(Lusting for warmer days...)
At the farmhouse, she is happy to see a brownie in my bakery bag. She never eats more than a bite or two, but she loves the concept of this bit of chocolate heaven.
Unlike the past days, this afternoon she is extremely absorbed in her own stories with characters. I catch one quick photo of her as she turns around to face me...
Oh! It reminds me so much of one that I keep in the bedroom upstairs! This one:
Same family don't you think? (It's her mommy, when she was just a little older than Snowdrop...)
Evening... the parents are here to pick up their charged charge. Ed is coming in with Snowdrop on his shoulders. It may be cold, but the girl "just looooves" closing the coop with him.
How were the cheepers? -- I ask him later.
For the first time, all three were already in the coop. You know, I need two hands to close the door, so I put Snowdrop on the roof for a brief second.
Did she mind?
Right away she said -- it's dirty! I thought for a second I was hearing you!
I turn to dinner preparation. I had asked Ed if there was something he wanted me to prepare this week. Chef's salad! -- he had said. Instantly.
What do you understand that to mean?
You know -- a salad like you usually make, only you add to it all sorts of stuff.
What kind of stuff?
Oh, turkey or chicken if you have it... (I don't have it. I put it on my grocery list.) Eggs, veggies. Left over veggies. (We never have left over veggies; I make copious amounts each day and we eat them all.)
That's it?
Mushrooms maybe. But don't cook them. Too much trouble. Put them in the microwave. (Blasphemy! I'll cook some.) The point is that you shouldn't go to any trouble over a chef's salad. Just throw stuff from the fridge into the bowl!
I smiled indulgently at his description, bought the needed items at the store and tonight, I cooked up and prepared what I think will satisfy his craving for a substantial "thrown together" salad and my desire to stay with the very fresh and very honest.
Night time. It's cold outside! And so calm and warm and quiet here in the farmhouse. Exhale, with a smile.
