apocalyptic epic Norse poetry and all. It looks good up there. I think it's happy to be out of a shed or garage for the first time in about 20 years. And it was fun hanging out on S' porch with N & S drinking beer and smoking and being mellow, too, particularly since young M pitched a huge fit about moving and said he hadn't been consulted (when, god, oh when will children realize that the family is not a democracy?) and he wasn't moving and in particularly not to Malvern Hills, was I crazy and forget it, he hated me and the rest of the world too and he was going to Baltimore to live with his father and so on. Teenagers are such a special joy. It worked out okay, though since when I went back I placated him with promises of cable television; he is happy now, the fickle, bribable boy.
Also, I made chicken vindaloo and raita for dinner and got everyone involved in making garam masala for that, which process initially resulted in an extremely fragrant burned powder - "Look, y'all! We made incense!" - and then turned out pretty damn good.
And then I packed up books. I packed up all the books in M's room last night and filled 4 big banana boxes with kids' books to give away and only 3 small beer/liquor boxes with books to keep, which is the kind of ratio I want. It was tough to choose in some cases so I just kept the real classics and the ones I totally love, like the Moomins and the Bear Who Wouldn't Be and sadly consigned Little Critter and the Stupids and all those insipid Magic Tree House books, which M inexplicably adored as a 2nd grader, to the banana boxes. I guess I really don't need Where's Waldo ever again but it's sad to kiss One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish goodbye. Oh well, life goes on, and we have waaaaaaaaaay too many books and since the chances of me ever having another little kid to read to are close to nil (please oh great astarte do not take this statement as some kind of personal challenge, thanks) I think the Seuss can go to somebody else's child now.