GuineaFowl of Celeste

I started the last day of the old year by forgetting my therapy appointment. The snow had fallen, and I was just about to go out and shovel when Madame texted me to say she was on her way to the office. Oops. She had other appointments and was mercifully forgiving of my dereliction. Then I did go out and shovel. The Lumberjack joined me, slithering about on the ice in his tattered sneakers. He made short work of the snowdrifts I had been slowly pushing aside. However, the effort revealed to him that he was coming down with a cold.

We had a very quiet New Year's Eve as a result. The Lumberjack prepared some delicious nachos, which we ate for dinner. Tron and I did some collaging. Hers is very bracing and upbeat. Mine turned out to be about loss: images of Mount St. Helen's blowing up, Viet Nam, a graveyard in Budapest . . . a scary portrait of Man Ray staring into the void . . . the Little Mermaid caught between worlds . . . Edward Hopper's empty house opening on ocean . . . somewhere in the dark wood, St. Francis setting free a flight of butterflies, frail messengers against the emptiness. Maybe I'll do a colorful one later, now that I've got that down on paper. The Lumberjack was tired out and went to bed early. Tron quickly followed suit. The Sparrowhawk and I stayed up till midnight and received Happy New Year texts from the other kids, including young Raptor who apparently made it all the way to midnight this year. But we all agreed that it wasn't a good time to pop the bubbly, nor was there any cheering or banging of implements. New Year's Day was similarly quiet. The Sparrowhawk and I put blackeyed peas, greens, rice, sausage, ham and salad on the table at supper time, and the Lumberjack had a plate and then crashed again. Tron played Lord of the Rings Trivial Pursuit with us. I won--which was not ENTIRELY a foregone conclusion, as the other two gave me a run for my money.

This morning, the Lumberjack was very sick and couldn't even get out of bed. No amount of flu shots can apparently prevail against people who sneeze on you in the airport. The Sparrowhawk went to Farmington for his MRI. Deb texted me that the Prussian had come through surgery all right, and she was waiting for the doctor's report. Tron studied for a couple of hours, and then kindly took me to the bookstore, where we browsed, had coffee, and I bought some funny socks for her and the Lumberjack. When I came home, there was email telling me that my last surviving uncle died on New Year's Day. I had sent him candy and a Christmas card, and my cousin had kindly written after Christmas to say that he'd enjoyed getting the box of chocolate, and had eaten one as soon as he opened it. But she also said that she thought his body was giving out and he might not have long on earth. I think after his wife died, he had no more reason to stay. I'm so grateful we got to see him this summer and tell him how much he meant to us. He was the best. It really is the end of an era. Tron and I stopped at the store and bought comfort food for the Lumberjack, and he finally woke up enough to eat. I'm hoping that he will start to get better now. They were going to go home tomorrow, but will be staying at least another day, until he feels well enough to travel. It's a pleasure to be able to take care of them, even a little bit. There are so many other things I can't help!