tuckova

Hearty chortled greetings. How was your weekend? But first let me tell
you about mine. Friar had been having recurring nightmares about the
cottage. When I have nightmares about the cottage, I do not want to go
there in case they might be true. When he has nightmares about the
cottage, he has to go to be sure they are not true, so we bundled up
and went to the cottage this weekend.

I believe – no, I admit – that at some point Squire made a face about the trip, and I hissed in his ear that I did
not want to go, that I was going in order to be kind to Friar, that
periodically we do things we don't like in order to be kind, and that
the kindness is removed by our bitching about it, and I am going so
he's going and I don't want another word about it. I do understand that
my saying to him that I don't want to go is fundamentally no different
from his saying that he doesn't want to go. I'm balancing my hypocrisy
with a little self awareness. That could totally be my epitaph.

To be fair, the person who volunteered to be in charge of preparing
and packing the food failed to prepare anything for me other than
boiled eggs, which was a large factor in my dampened enthusiasm. Yes
okay also we brought bell peppers and tomatoes, but for protein: boiled
eggs. Mmmm, really, boiled eggs for lunch dinner and breakfast? That
causes brisk rubbing of the anticipatory hands! And heart attacks!

It was 20 degrees below. Celsius, but still: that is cold.
Fortunately we were bundled and had many, many pairs of extra socks.
Mostly the whole weekend I couldn't get warm. Even when the inside of
the cottage was a perfectly reasonable temperature I was generally
under a pile of sleeping bags and doing Inward Moaning. However, we
also played in the snow, which was very fluffy and unsuitable for
snowballs. It was, however, very nice to run in and also to fall down
in, which I did quite a bit. Squire made snow angels for his
grandmother, who had mentioned them (city snow is unsuitable, as it can
contain Surprises), and I took pictures. And that part was a lot of
fun, and coming back to the toasty cottage after that part was also a
lot of fun. And breaking out the wine and cigarettes and sitting down
to play games with a now-crackling fire at our backs, watching the
thermostat inside rise while the one outside fell, that was also also
fun.

We played every game in the cottage at least once, dried our socks
over the stove, and Squire and I started reading "A String in the Harp"
(1970s Newbery book), which is very promising. I have some ideas about
the 70s and children's literature in the 70s in particular, and the
contrast between what Newbery winners reflect and what bestsellers
reflect… but I'm really not probably qualified to expound on it
without at least a bottle of wine tucked under my belt.

Anyway. How was your weekend? I hope it was also good.