Lovelihood

A blue velveteen duvet cover seemed like a well-deserved luxury at the time we bought it for our first owned home more than a decade ago. We soon discovered, though, that, with two cats and our own lack of OCD-tendencies, we were no match for velveteen's knack for attracting every stray particle. So we retired that duvet cover for a no-nonsense cotton one in the same color. With out of town guests occupying our own bed this week, I pulled out the old one and laid it out for it to promptly amass dust-bunny fodder and the muddy bootprint of one pre-schooler.

The Boy sprouted a four bit moustache, insisting that he was going to keep it on for school on Monday, but couldn't stop fiddling with it. And so it spent some time on a door, then above his sister's lip, and has come to a resting place in the space between the kids' beds, where one might expect to find vending machine facial hair.

Before we moved in, the previous owners had spent 40 years in the house, raising two children here and leaving behind a legacy of notes tucked into drawers and cabinets informing us of original marble tiling under the bathroom linoleum, and sheets listing the oil company's contact info ("Call SEneca 4545"), and vital statistics scratched into the basement stairwell by the woman who, much later, would sell us her late parents' home.

I've seen daffodils and crocuses around the neighborhood, sprouted and displaying their colors. But it wasn't until today that I noticed that they'd started blooming in my own yard. Yay.

An assortment of cookies, girl scout style, to go with my coffee.

Evidently, with Kindergarten being a year-long series of birthday and half-birthday and otherwise treat-worthy revelry, the Boy's school stash of cakes needed replenishing. A half-batch yields 18 jars-worth, probably not enough to get us through to summer. But it should get us close.

Don't know why, but making the mitered corners on the shade make me quite happy.