crunch week

Remember my husband’s birthday? Remember his cake? Remember his gift?

To recap: I handed him some money attached to a shit-ton of work, and ever since, my husband has been tied up in knots. (Aren’t I sweet?)

This Friday, March 15th, is The Big Day — a friend dubbed it “The Ides of Murch” — so in recent weeks, my husband has been spending his evenings and weekends crawling around on the second floor of the new barn framing up the new second-story walls with the old roof pressing down on top of him, his stress levels at a fever pitch.

I’ve popped my head up there a couple times, and it pretty much looks exactly like his birthday cake.

All this week, my husband is working on the barn. The kids are helping, too: it’s spring break for the college kids, my older daughter already works with my husband, and my older son took off.

When I got back from town early afternoon on Monday, I found them huddled in front of the fire, drinking coffee.

That day, they tore off the roof, never mind the gale-force winds that blew up out of nowhere.

Today, the the framing material for the roof gets delivered. They’ll spend the next few days building walls and cutting rafters, and then Friday, a horde of local carpenters, family, and friends will swarm the property and get. the. job. done. 

And what am I doing, you ask? Feeding people, naturally. Along with all the regular kitchen tasks — i.e. cheesemaking, because my husband is still milking three cows, remember — I’ll be feeding anyone who shows up to work during the week and prepping for the Friday event: lunch, birthday pies, homemade doughnuts, etc. It’s gonna be a party! 

We are watching the weather like hawks. The entire week looks dazzling except for — you guessed it — a chance of rain on Friday. [cue muffled, panicked screams] The big question: is it a passing chance, or a blossoming one?

Either way, it doesn’t much matter. There’s not much we can do about it anymore.

There’s no going back now!

This same time, years previous: cherry bounce, for science, opening, adventuring, the quotidian (3.12.12), for all we know, dunging out.


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