What do you want to do today?

Her head cocks right, eyes search the ceiling.

We're sitting in the entryway on the reformed church pew.  Mandy catches our reflection in the door window.

Mug shot

"Woof."  "Erruff".  Her body puffs.  The woof comes out with an breathy oof.  "There's a dog in the doorway."

I wave at the man and dog in the doorway trying to show her the connection between my wave and me.  She looks at me waving, then at the reflection in the window of the door.  "BARK". 

It echoes in the enclosed space, bouncing off the ceiling.  My ears hurt.  "Unlax," I tell her.

"It's only me." 

The conversation ends there.  I can't list options because she'll only hear the first suggestion.  I don't want to go outside at the moment.  I feel a need to check out the NWS site and find out why the thermometer is inching up toward forty.  I thought Jorge was pulling my leg when he mentioned a thaw.  The NWS forecasters were and are fairly inconsistent.  Light freezing rain and drizzle never happened in our area after 2 pm.  yesterday.  Below zero temperatures are in the overnight forecast  two days from now.  I need to get oak in the basement wood bin. 

Johann calls.  "Your phone is ringing, "says Dawn.

"I don't know where it is."

"I can't make it over.  Drank too much last night.  I'm in a bad way. See ya."

At eight pm the previous night, he calls to check in.

"Howyre' doin?" he asks.

We're speeding home after eating too much Lo Mein. " I'm OK," I tell him. Actually, I've got stomach cramps and a bad cough.

"I'll be over with the big truck tomorrow.  We can load some firewood, bottle that wine and discuss the greenhouse footings." 

"OK."   He tells me that he's been hanging drywall, working until two am.  Tonight will be another work marathon. 

"Been running hard and fast all day." he adds.

I'm bored beyond recognition and he can't find enough time in the day.

I lazy down at the library with Mandy at my feet reading the local newspapers and trying desperately to have a conversation with my library angel.  Every time I ask a question, be it about criteria for the book cull we're about to launch or about the grocery store in town that's up for sale, I get a long convoluted answer that begins in 1944 and ends with a purse snatching.