The needle is hovering around the freezing point these days, so we have been leaving the woodstove unlit until early evening. Our woodpile, which Manful spent an entire day procuring from a seller up north, turned out to be a disappointment. It is not seasoned as we thought, so has to be mixed with properly seasoned wood, and even then ... well, maybe by next fall it will be worth the $400 we paid for it.

I am home with my boys. We’ve got the kitchen almost licked and will go to my sister's this afternoon. Had a nice breakfast together at my insistence, while Manful stopped in, ravenous, on his way from one job to another.

Before we can go to my home town, there are errands to run. Our recycling collection is overflowing badly. There is a parcel at Sears; I ordered new jeans for the boys, and for myself a black sweater and three pairs of sandals. Manful will give me a hard time about those. Especially since when we were in the city this weekend I bought two new pairs of boots!

One is a tall black boot that adds two inches to my height — what a different view from only two inches higher — and the other is a black hiking boot. I wear my steel-toed workboots often when there's no snow on the ground, so these two pairs of boots for $15 could not be passed up. A deal is a deal, man.

Mine (man, that is) will just have to build me another closet, for my shoes overfloweth.

When I was a kid, our family gatherings on my mother’s side always included music. Uncle Bob, Grandma’s brother, played old-time guitar or sometimes his fiddle, and Mom played the accordion or piano. Songs were sung in the kitchen or living room while rye and coke were drank at the kitchen table.

Emil would have had something in common with Uncle Bob. As a child, Uncle Bob had polio, which left him with one leg shorter than the other. He had to wear a brace and was apparently unable to participate in the hockey and other sports or games the kids played, so he sang and played instead.

Uncle Bob died not long before Emil was born, and family gatherings have never been the same. I feel fortunate now that Scott’s family functions on his mother’s side also include music and singing. I always think oh, how Mom would love this if she was here. She’d be in there like a dirty shirt, knowing the words to all the old songs.