Which makes no sense, but is a riff on a Jimmy Buffet tune, and he is one of my favorites thanks to a college roommate from Florida who brought his albums to our Vermont dorm room in 1981.The line comes from popular The Weather is Beautiful, Wish You Were Here style of postcards. I am still jamming in preparation for my son and daughter’s arrival on Friday’s ferry. The main thing is the garage remodel next door. My grand dogs were here ( that makes 5. Don’t ask.) And now an actual granddaughter, who is a joy. There’s that, plus I promised myself daily posts in December and it is almost 8 pm and I have been going full-speed since 5 am, and almost skipped ( knowing you would understand, and telling myself that whatever I add to the chorus of babble is probably not necessary, and yet? Doesn’t being here matter?)
So beginning with Sunday afternoon, here is a postcard for you. (The extra dogs went home when my daughter and the girls’ basketball teams returned from Whitehorse, YT in the evening.)
It was dark when they arrived and I traded the dogs for granddaughter Caroline.
Howser’s had 4 avocados for 5 dollars and two limes for a buck, so we have guacamole. It’s almost as good as a trip to Mexico ( and as close as I’m going to get this year.)
Also, we have critical infrastructure next door:
A toilet and a stove.
Although today was the third day of priming the new woodstove, and the goal was to hold 400 degrees for an hour. The first 20 minutes set off all of the smoke alarms and they blared for 45 minutes as the paint on the stove and pipes fumed, and so I opened all the windows. I had been wiping the adhesive from the stickers off of the inside of the new windows with a rag dipped in lighter fluid– (it works great. And yes, stay away from the stove.) A straight edge edge razor gets the really tough stuff off– and then I used rubbing alcohol to clean off the lighter fluid and anything smeared on the glass from all that, and since the blaring of the smoke alarms hurt my ears I went outside to wash windows, but at 25 degrees was making ice with the Windex. One window had some adhesive stuck to the outside, so I used the alcohol and it cleaned the window and didn’t freeze. So I did them all that way (magic!) I really like clean windows. It’s a thing with me, and makes me happy, so I won’t aplogize anymore for this housekeeping tick, and by that time the alarms finally quit so I could dust, wipe and wash inside some more. There’s still a ways to go, but the outside is coming together as much as it will until spring.
Southeast Roadbuilders came in the morning and by lunchtime had graded all around the foundation, put in a culvert ( to avoid future floods), and dropped gravel by the back door in case it gets muddy. (Snow and rain are in the forecast for when we have to move the mattresses in. Of course.)Chip strung the Christmas lights. He is a fat-colored light guy, always has been.
But what I really wanted to tell you was that sunrise at 9:15 was beautiful. A gift. Truly. My friend Beth took this picture while we walked the dogs and I joked about making time for yoga.
And now, the dishes are done, and it’s time for the last pose of the day:
I am humming that old Advent hymn which is both inspiring and forgiving, and that’s why I love it—“Make your house fair as you are able, trim the hearth and set the table.”
And finally, here is a thought for you to ponder, because I think it is true, don’t you?
“It is not happiness that makes us grateful. It’s gratefulness that makes us happy.”– Monk David Steindl-Rast.