That sweet boy is wondering why I don't come to visit. Strider loves the snow. The chickie girls- not so much.
In the last five months, two of my siblings have faced a life or death health crisis. Those type of events set you to thinking. You know this house was old and in kind of awful shape when we bought it. It had the space we wanted and the property, and it has been the best place to raise a family. I am so very thankful for the mass of people we've loved and fed here. This house was a blessing from God, and at the time, some help from Handy Man's mom. I'm grateful to have had the privilege of landing on this spot.
We last remodeled twenty two years ago and, needless to say, we are kind of back to having lots that needs doing. Ahem, maybe more than kind of. Since we aren't exactly spring chickens, we've been having some discussion about what might be best- try and sell it, fix it up and live in it, fix it up before we try to sell. Ugh.
I decided to talk to the Captain about it as he buys houses and works on them all the time. He is a very practical sort of person and after presenting a variety of options said, "Sell it for the land and move on."
Well. Well's a deep subject.
So after laying out the options and hearing my angst at leaving here, and the snow affording him a few unusual off hours, he came to visit with his littles, freeing me from an afternoon of snow induced depression. He wanted to take a look at my biggest concerns and see what would be the easiest fix. Just his coming and considering my heart was precious to me, but the conversation that ensued, brought it home even more. I so wish I had an audio of it.
When they got here it looked as if Bean had sought out the deepest pile of snow he could find and had on pants that showed no plans of turning any of that snow loose. I asked him if he wanted me to get him some dry ones and put those in the dryer. He commented that he thought my dryer was broke. I said that it was my washer, which can only be fixed to the tune of 335 dollars and shall remain and be discarded in its brokeness.
So, I dry the pants, fix the tea and omelets, play with Bugg's pretty hair while the Cpt. is measuring. When he sits down we start discussing his findings and it begins to dawn on my gramerlings that we are talking about selling Gramerly's Playdate house. Bean said, "What, you can't sell this, not now, not yet." " You can't sell this house for ten more years, no wait, twenty years." His dad tells him he is not helping, but Bean is not deterred. "What about the creek?" His last argument was quite elevated and empahtic, "You can't sell a house with a broken washing machine." In addition to laughing so very hard, I said to my eldest, "See, what did I tell you."
So the discussion continues and Bugg realizes the space we are talking about is the playroom, so she immediately, God love her, starts problem solving about ways to save the playroom. Then she says that maybe we could sell a couple of those beautiful ball gowns. Oh, my. I then stop talking to the Cpt. and try to honestly lay out the whole reason we are having this discussion and that the playroom is not in any imminent danger, nor are Gramerly and Pap in desperate need of funding.
For whatever reason it was so very sweet to me how much they want to hold onto to this piece of their childhood, and how little our lack of modernity is noticed by the folks who matter most to me.
I still don't know what we'll do, but I know how they feel and that will shape our decision.
I was hoping to get a picture of how absolutely cute Bugg is in her new glasses, but I wasn't able to overcome the glare from the lens.
I spent most of the day making a very garlicky chicken soup from Gardener E. It is a lovely soup for such a day and I bet would be most welcome when the cold or flu is knocking around in your head.
I imagine we won't be going to school tomorrow either. Come on Spring!