Mardi Gras dinner — extra large burgers with spices and all the trimmings, and spiced fries. Kieron didn’t convince me to open a liter of soda.
It was a bright sunny day — California blue and gold — and our Sierra glistening white snow and silver ice. Even the Durango with its snow tires had some trouble climbing our driveway in reverse this morning as I drove Sean to school.
We ran out of firewood, and so I sawed branches that we’d stored in the garage for future kindling. I was enjoying the sawing and it’s a good way to warm up when the thermostat’s at 64 degrees and the fire is barely going, but I think I’ll start having Brendan and Kieron do some of it. Aidan wants to help but is limited to adding them to the stove (with supervision). No saws for him yet.
The firewood guy promises to come Thursday or Friday, though; hope it doesn’t snow.
Tomorrow we have to start singing Ashes again. My daughter refers to it as the “Phoenix song”. Sure, it’s fine to rise again from ashes and “create ourselves anew” if we’re phoenixes (and proud of it!) but for the rest of us, who don’t have a hand in our own generation or re-generation, it seems to miss the point of what Lent’s about. Actually, what life is about. Oooh, and that “the dreams not fully dreamt…!” Sugar shock on a fast day! Plus the melody is just so ….so…. SO (the last SO sung in a sort of screech when most of the congregation gets two notes above their vocal range).
But we’ll wear the ashes till they wear off, and hear “remember that thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return”. That part of it is good. The little ones, who are bored by the silly middle-aged third-rate-movie hymns, are solemn and interested in the ashes and have to inspect everyone’s forehead in the evening after we get home.