Update from The Woods

Hello from the land of 50 degrees in January! While my family laments that there's no fun to be had in a snowless January, I rejoice. It certainly is easier to take out the garbage, and drive, and walk without falling on my arse. This is the first January since we moved to The Woods that I have not felt like feeding myself to the bears (they're asleep, I know, but they'd find me in the spring). My improved mood may also be due to my daily increase of Vitamin D; whatever the reason, here I am with a smile on mi boca. Tra la.

The dog, however, seems to have absorbed the sadness I no longer feel. R says he'd rather have a depressed dog than a depressed wife, but it is worrisome when she sleeps until 10 a.m. and won't eat her food. We boarded her during the holidays, and we're fairly certain they fed her McDonald's hamburgers for every meal, so now she doesn't want the doggie version of twigs and berries we feed her, and she's protesting with a hunger strike.

Sweet P spent her holidays in California and is now forlorn about its location on the other side of the country. Fortunately, when she's low she guzzles literature instead of booze, and I'm enjoying the literary conversations. Sweet P has been attached to the Harry Potter books so fervently since we began reading them, lo, those many years ago, and was resistant to any other offering I brought from the library.

However, I read an article recently which suggests that knowing the end of a story increases one's satisfaction in reading it. I'm not sure this is true for me, but it seems to be true for Sweet P. Each time she hears a snippet of my audio book in the car she is enticed to read more, and she does. She sat through the entire UU discussion of The Bird Sisters by Rebecca Rasmussen, knows the tale's end, and now wants to read that, too. It's also true for Obo, as he read the Harry Potter books, Deathly Hallows first. Hey, whatever works. Sweet P just finished reading The Help and My Name is Memory, which leads me to believe that she may have moved beyond my YA library offerings.  She is almost 15 after all. Yikes. She's planning her birthday soiree as I write this.

Buckaroo is as bucky as ever and growing buckier by the minute. We've begun the Harry Potter journey with him, and it's strange to be starting anew. I struggled through the opening pages of The Sorcerer's Stone, all choked up with the knowledge of what's to come. With Sweet P, we made slow progress through the series, forced to wait for the release of each new book. Buckaroo doesn't have that hindrance, but because he's only four, I think we're going to impose an intermission between books four and five. I often find myself editing some of the language as I read, replacing "stupid" with "silly" and "kill" with "get." That doesn't stop him from calling me a mudblood-- ever an opportunity for conversation.

Obo is dissatisfied with his English hairdressing school. Last summer we vacationed in New York City, and he was quite smitten. He's decided to attend community college stateside this fall with the goal of attending a university and working his way cityward. (Can I get a hallelujah?) He's also the happy recipient of a brand new laptop and Skype-able. He looks just the same, in case you were wondering. Oh, but how will he ever find a suitable American stylist? It will be an adventure.

R and I are in the midst of updating the kitchen. I never knew it would be so time consuming. Oh, the woes of luxury. I am looking forward to having a home that feels like mine. It's been a long-time waiting. We're also still contemplating the kindergarten conundrum with Buckaroo. Well, it's more about my blabbing and R nodding. You've probably heard that tale before.

I have a recurring fantasy of opening a bookstore, which would make us about as much money as my fantasy to run a poetry camp or become a librarian. I daydream about naming my bookstore the way I used to daydream about naming my children. But in my bookstore fantasy, I lounge around the store reading all day with a literary cat in my lap, occasionally looking up to chat with a customer. You know, some people have porn. This is mine. Let me suspend my disbelief.

R still tends to his bees (they're enjoying the weather as much as I am), plans his garden, and is learning how to tile. We went for a hike last weekend and actually found frozen mushrooms among the ice. He was so pleased.

That's it for now. I must tend to a second attempt at dumplings. 

Happy New Year, Lovelies!