I joked yesterday that Alison and I were sloth-like. We morphed into slugs on Sunday -- neither of us feeling very well. Which I guess might explain our Saturday behavior, too.
Jeff picked up the slack for us, though, and our neighbors, too. While a bit of water is already seeping through our foundation, he spent most of the afternoon and evening digging ice trenches so the melt would have reason to go away rather than inside the house. He dug a trench down the drive and along the street, even digging out the storm drain.
He's going to deserve a very nice anniversary/Valentine's gift. Maybe he'll get it early if my apparent recovery actually takes hold.
Tomorrow starts Alison's foray into braces. I take her for a consult to the tooth-puller and on Tuesday Jeff takes her to the orthodontist for spacers. On the 21st, she'll have four teeth pulled. In early March she'll get her braces. Sounds fun, aye?
In a non-dental aside, Alison was passing by the wall of pictures the other day and brought up one from my very early years. It's my siblings and me with my Dad showing off a squirrel harvest. Each of the kids is holding a dead rodent by the tail as if they were Christmas or birthday presents. It's straight out of Appalachia.
She questioned why we were holding dead animals and I tried to explain that it was a big deal and that the picture was representing what a good hunt and a good day it had been.
"It wasn't a good day for the squirrels," she muttered.
Yeah. She's a city girl....
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