"When a Man Loves a Woman, he tells her to go Thrifting!"

Somewhere in one of my boxes of childhood treasures is a spiral notebook. It's filled with the childish handwriting of nine-year-old me (which handwriting I never really outgrew). Each school morning, my third-grade teacher, Mrs. McDonald, would have written (in her own beautiful cursive) on the chalkboard a phrase or title. A writing prompt per se'. We'd be given about thirty minutes of quiet time to put our freshly sharpened number two pencils to our wide-lined notebooks and write whatever thoughts came to mind on the topic shown on the board. We'd turn the notebooks in to her after we were finished writing and she'd grade for spelling and punctuation, never for content; and usually she would write a little commentary at the top of the page. "What a fun idea!" or "How great would it be if the ground were really made of chocolate!", ensuring each child she'd really taken the time to read every word they'd written.

Mrs. McDonald also had reading hour every day after lunch. Two children that had been assigned to bring a reading hour snack would go to the school kitchen to prep the food they'd brought and then while the rest of the class sat in a circle cross-legged, serve the food one by one to each child while all listened quietly to the lilting voice of our teacher as she read from "The Secret Garden", or "The Boxcar Children".

With the recent reminder of how the tangible, material things of this world can literally go up in flames, with the recent events of our own furnace fire, and of course the horrific fires in California, I have been reminded to sit down and write down the important, unimportant, exciting and mundane things in my life. My written memories are really the only things that will last beyond my time earth-side. And though it may seem dramatic, the reality is that my time going forward is much shorter that looking back. My last year in my fifties. So, I will give myself a prompt to write at least once a month as I approach sixty years old. I guess I would write on my chalkboard, "How is 2025 going so far?" Boring, maybe. But I'm not a schoolteacher and I don't have pretty cursive to write on a chalkboard anyway so I'm just going with it.

After back-ing and forth-ing with our insurance company, we are ever so slowly making progress on getting things repaired/replaced in the original part of our cabin. I'm still not sure what to do with this exposed brick. I really rather like the look of the it, even though the mortar is pretty sloppy looking on the stairs side. It could be quaint if the stairs are finished in the way I'm envisioning (stained with a runner and brass rod holder thingies going across each). I get a little crippled with decision fatigue. When the decision fatigue sets in, I do the brilliant thing and go thrifting.

While our own rugs had been at the cleaners and the carpet torn out, living with sub-flooring was becoming un-fun. I saw this circular rug and it spoke to me. "Take me home with you and I promise I'll fit perfectly in your little space." While I was at it I grabbed these two chairs as well. Both of them for $25. Together. Not per. It was a good conversation with furnishings that day.

January 2025 has been bitter cold. How on earth tiny little moths survive subzero temperatures is beyond me. Maybe they survive by coming inside our home. They annoy me hugely. I annoy Dave hugely by talking about how annoyed I am by tiny moths. He purchased a few of these little sticky tape night lights, and voila! Moths are coming inside to get warm and then go to their little moth deaths by night light. Now I have to find something new to be annoyed about.

Yes, it's a fleece blanket nailed to the wall we use as a curtain. By day we pull it back with a hair-claw. Curtains to come soon!

On another one of my thrifting days in town, I saw this beautiful wrought-iron bed for $30. "Maybe I won't even mention this one to Dave....." he has been laying the flooring in the loft/bedroom. Lots of upping and downing and bending on knees that aren't the same since his basketball days. We'd slept on an air-mattress for several weeks, and actually slept quite well. Something about a normal bed though...."It probably won't be too hard to convince him we need this." I told him about it. He gave it about a ten-second thought and said, "You should go buy it if it's still there." So I did. Along with that cute little chair, side table and lamp in the corner. I'll write about how we got it here with the trailer coming down our icy hill another day. Still working through the trauma on that one. He must really love me.

We're in the thick of winter. The high this coming week expected to be only in the teens and the lows well below zero. So of course, I want to do things like paint what few walls we have. The crack on this wall and the one directly opposite are actually hairline compared with the 1/4'' gap there was before when the framers were attaching the back of the cabin to the new addition. That was quite the sound as he jacked the back of the cabin back up. That little paint swatch appeals to me; a little warmer without being drastic.

A little new-to-me piano lamp. (From guess where)

This Ficus plant spent nearly two months in our exposed addition. I lost a couple of large plants due to the extreme temperature shifts during those weeks, but this lovely that I thought would for sure be a gonner not only survived, it's thriving. It's gotten so big I'm tempted to re-pot it, but at the same time I'm terrified of changing anything since it seems so happy with whatever is happening right now. I think I'll wait until it tells me it needs a new pot, like the round rug told me it needed to come home with me.

My Mama's Christmas cactus bloomed. On Christmas. A Christmas miracle. It also bloomed earlier on the day of the election. We call that a TMOTL around here. "Tender mercy of the Lord." Jill would like that.

I purchased this fern from the little "sick plant" section of Home Depot years ago. No matter what I put it through, it will. not. die. Sometimes I feel something tickle my head while I'm doing the dishes and I freak out a little bit, then I realize it's just the plant. And then I have a little chuckle and wonder why I'm so weird.

Behind me is a oil-space-heater. It works like a charm when the fire dies out for the night. There is also a new reading lamp. (Guess where from) And also, last week I had Melissa put a few highlights in my hair. I have covered my roots for a while now that I'm not sure how much grey is present. So I figure maybe it's time to let some of it come on through. Natalie gives me grief about it. I can promise I won't cut it into a pixie. That might be for when I turn 70.

Aaaaaand another lamp. But look. We have zero overhead lighting! And the lamp that was there before that would light the stairway, well the shade was open at the top and as you walk down the stairs the two lightbulbs were BLINDING! At least they were blinding if your eyes hadn't adjusted to being awake yet. And so these are the things I'm going to tell Dave when he gets home tonight. He'll agree with me. Freya totally agrees with me too. She is so suspicious of every little new thing that I bring home.

See what I mean? Suspicious.

I set this puzzle out weeeeeks ago. "Do puzzles!" they say. "It'll help with memory and brain function as you age!" they say. Meanwhile, I feel like I'm losing my mind. If there were only one squirrel instead of two; and that da** pastel colored sky in the background is making me feel all the rage'ey feelings. Dave, "How's your puzzle coming along?" Me, "Not good." I smile up at him and ask sweetly, "Wanna help?" Dave, "I have enough things that frustrate me with work, I don't think I'd find that a very enjoyable thing to do." So now I'm just determined to finish it because I'm pissed at it, and now it's all making sense why people mod-podge and frame these bad boys when they're completed because #neveragain. I know they do. Because I've seen framed puzzles, in the thrift store.

When a man loves a woman. He buys her a doll house that she's always dreamed of having since she was a little girl that dreamed of living in a two-story house with an attic that had a trunk full of dress up clothes and a doll house to entertain herself for hours.

It came with two large bags just filled with all the things to keep me...I mean....the little grandchildren busy for hours.

I think it actually even came with some lamps. Imagine that.