So we’re all still a little unsteady after the unpleasant illness events of last weekend. We were on our way to the grocery store today before a bout of nausea nearly caused me to spackle the windshield, and thusly forced a quick U-turn to get us back home.

Daphne wasn’t feeling the trip either. She had her eyes closed and kept saying “home. home. soon. home.” on her talker.

Oh, right. Daphne is home on a Tuesday.

It seems the school was having issues with their buses this morning. Again.

We got a call about an hour before school time that they were having issues with the buses due to cold temperatures, and that the start of the day would be delayed until about 10am.

90 minutes later, they’d already given up on the day and called back to cancel school. Which seemed rather odd to us. I mean, it was cold (-13°), but that’s not exactly an unheard of occurrence up here. Uncommon, sure, but certainly not a rarity.

Anyway, school canceled. So Daph had an extended holiday. (She was off Monday for MLK Day as well.)

Speaking of the cold, we did manage a quick stop for some fatwood from the hardware store on our way home.

We’d run out of kindling and it’s supposed to be similarly cold tonight. Also, to be honest, I love this stuff. It’s like fireplace/woodstove cheat codes.

Once upon a time there was a significant amount of cursing and/or empty threats toward the misfires that would happen regularly in our woodstove. Then I somehow discovered that throwing a few sticks of these things, along with a crumpled piece of newspaper, is the absolute best way to light a fire.

It’s actually been cold enough that even the chickens have their heater set up again in the coop. And I had AI write a song and create a 90’s-style music video to commemorate the occasion.

Now I ran the heater out there partially for the new girls, but at this point they’ve feathered out enough to where they’ll probably be okay in all but the most extreme of cold temps.

Really I did it for poor Doris…

I have no idea why her poor little molty zeitgebers decide that January is the perfect time to shed all her feathers and force her to roam around bareassed in the snow, but it seems to happen every year.

Poor thing.

Okay, see you tomorrow.

j.s.