Shortly before eight o’clock this morning, before leaving to take my daughter to a (routine) doctor’s appointment, I ran up to the boys’ room to give them a few instructions. I sailed into the middle of the room — earlier, trotting up and down the hall, I’d noticed the lamp light shining out from under the door so I knew they were awake — surveyed the chaos and both boys, cozy in their beds, and said, “Don’t move. I’m getting my camera.”

Their room makes me want to pull my hair out. With the hardwood floors and three big windows, it has so much potential, but the boys could care less. Just a few weeks ago, my older son removed the area carpet — I forget why — so now there isn’t even a rug to soften the space. I’ve mostly given up on getting them to keep it tidy, though every couple days, like today, I’ll lay down the law: NO LUNCH UNTIL YOU PUT YOUR CLOTHES AWAY. And then they do, but it hardly makes a dent. Clearly, this room won’t be appearing on a Pinterest board any time soon.

Oh, well. At least the space is getting used. And if the boys don’t mind the mess — on the contrary, they practically revel in it — then why get my panties in (too much of) a twist?

This morning when I stormed in, my older son was watching a lecture in preparation for his Anatomy and Physiology class that started today. (He called me afterward to tell me he loved the professor. She’s so enthusiastic, he said, that at one point she jumped up on a lab table while lecturing.)

My younger son was working on the control panel from his remote control car. He’s dismantled it to see how it works. Last night he showed me the three motors, one for the steering, one to spin the back wheels and one to spin the front wheels — I appreciated his excitement, but the subject matter made my eyes glaze over — and later this morning I found him at my computer watching a how-to video on installing solar panels. (And yes, that is a glue gun in his bed. Why do you ask?)

This same time, years previous: our little dustbunnies, one year and one day, the quotidian (1.9.12), earthquake cake.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (1.9.17), kicking off 2016, sourdough crackers, date nut bread, between two worlds, buckwheat apple pancakes, so worth it, salted dulce de leche ice cream with candied peanuts, hog butchering!, turkey noodle soup, baked hashbrown potatoes.

Savoring: my afternoon coffee and the lingering taste of Dutch apple pie and whipped cream. I had the pie for my breakfast, too. The kids reacted to the addition of raisins, but I liked them — they gave the pie a virtuous boost of fruity wholesomeness.


Appreciating: the cheerful nurse at this morning’s doctor appointment (vaccines for two kids) who was sincerely apologetic about our extensive wait, due to an office snafu, and then gave us a grocery store gift card as a consolation prize for our troubles. ‘Twas a ray of sunshine… 

Listing: sideways on the living room sofa because it has got a horrific case of old-sofa sag. Maybe this is why my back always hurts?

Contemplating: purchasing a new sofa … but I’m not sure I can justify spending all that money. Ugh, I hate buying furniture. (Anyone have a comfy — and attractive and not too old and supremely comfy — couch you want taken off your hands?)

Anticipating: this weekend’s family gathering in Pennsylvania and all the good food and conversation to go with!

Packing: extra warm socks and slippers since our hostess warned us that her house — a huge old farmhouse — doesn’t get above 63 degrees … and that’s in the warmest places.

Making: two pies — a grape and an apple — for Saturday night’s pie bar at my cousin’s house. 

Considering: stopping at a Target (or some such store) on the way up to PA and purchasing some winter clothes for the child who has nothing warm and has been (oddly enough) whimpering about the state of his wardrobe for quite some time.

Listening: to the wind thumping the metal roof, the high-pitched whine of my husband’s old and very slow computer, the whir of the noise machine in the upstairs hall, the ticking of the clock, the old dog’s heavy breathing while she sleeps, the tapping of my fingers against the computer keys… 

Twitching my nose: at the weird, cold-weather house smells that float up through the floor from the basement. When it gets super cold, the heat draws the air up from the crawl space under the living room, and for some unknown reason, it smells exactly like dog farts. My husband says it’s just a matter of lining the crawl space with plastic (again), and that it shouldn’t take more than a couple hours, but has he done it yet? Nope.

Gearing up: to do some more smoking once this cold spell lets up a little. We borrowed a smaller smoker from a different friend, and I just picked up a new smoking book from the library. Along with another brisket and a pork butt, I’d like to try burgers and hotdogs….

Craving: soup, the brothier and hotter, the better. I have one more meal’s worth of Italian Wedding soup in the freezer, but I’ve been hoarding it. Gives me great comfort, knowing that soup is in my culinary arsenal.

Watching: Godless, with my husband (not right now now), and oh my word, Jeff Daniels makes an outstanding villain. I can’t watch the show right before bed, though, else I can’t sleep.

Marveling: that my husband works outside, all day long, in this brutally cold weather. He doesn’t even fuss (at least not about that, he doesn’t).

Have a good weekend, friends. Stay warm!

This same time, years previous: marching, high on the hog, what it means, the quotidian (1.6.14), headless chickens, of an evening (and a morning), candied peanuts, winter chickens, what I did.