Maybe Outhouses Weren’t So Bad
Well, our three-bathroom house is currently down to a one-bathroom house. After spending literally hours here yesterday, the plumber(s) finally located the area that is plugged up. Thankfully, we still have a working toilet, and even better, it happens to be the one in our bedroom. On the opposite end of the luck spectrum, we have company coming tonight, and whether or not we will have an additional bathroom for them to use is as yet uncertain. What is certain is that I could undoubtedly have thought of better ways to spend as much money as this will cost us! But as Bing Crosby crooned, “And when our bankroll is getting small, we’ll think about the time when we had none at all, and we’ll fall asleep counting our blessings.” Outlook on life according to the movie White Christmas.
Speaking of Blessings….
Our Vermont family arrived safely yesterday afternoon, and we spent some time with them yesterday evening. The plane ride was as good as it gets when you’re dealing with a 7-year-old and a VERY ACTIVE 4-year-old. But this happened…..
Yes, it’s true. Joseph had the opportunity to sit in the cockpit of the airplane. I’m pretty sure he didn’t help fly the thing. Nevertheless, that’s pretty exciting business when you’re 7. And, by the way, the thing to the pilot’s left looks like it would hold an iPad. I’m hoping like hell he/she doesn’t read while flying the plane!
Willa Cather Started Someplace
I liked to write from the time I was a small girl. I have mentioned the stories I would write when I was in third grade when I decided I wanted to be a writer. Last night as the grown-ups sat around talking after dinner, 10-year-old Dagny got her parents’ computer, and was quietly typing away at something. Finally, we asked her what she was doing. “Writing a story,” she told us. I of course had to take a look at what she wrote, and was seriously quite impressed. Her story was about two very good friends who were at odds with one another because one of the girls had sort of betrayed the other. I found that her story telling was interesting and her plotting was creative. She didn’t just tell a story from beginning to end, blah blah blah. She used flashback and moved the story along via her dialogue. I was so impressed that I asked her if she would write my blog for today. “I can tell you what I would write,” she told me. “I would say ‘Dagny is a wonderful girl and I love her very much. She is the best child out of the four.'” So there. Consider this her contribution.
Last night, in honor of Heather being in town, her mother cooked for us all, making absolutely delicious Polish food. We had fresh and smoked kielbasa, stuffed cabbage rolls (golobki), and creamed cucumbers. My mother — who was 100 percent Polish — always said she learned to cook from her mother-in-law, who was 100 percent Swiss. But I remember eating all of those things that Cynthia cooked last night, so Mom learned Polish cooking somewhere. It tasted wonderful, and made me think about my mom.